The Impossibility of Forgetting
by I'm.Wishing
Summary: Girl meets Boy. Girl & Boy fall head-over-heels in love. Girl's violent past returns, refuses to take no for an answer. Girl is left terrified, confused & broken. Girl pulls away from Boy. Boy is desperate to save Girl. AH, Mature Themes, Regular Updates
1. One

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

**Please be advised that this is a story about rape, it's effects on a high school relationship, and the beginning steps of recovery for both the victim and her significant other. I have already written this story in its entirety (I will update weekly) and can assure you that there are no scenes of gratuitous violence or graphic sexual assault. The topic of sexual assault is handled realistically, but with upmost sensitivity. Still, if rape is a topic that is especially upsetting to you, you might want to read another story. **

**All Twilight references belong to Stephenie Meyer. Original material belongs to this author.**

CHAPTER ONE

**Bella**

My first meeting with Edward was pure coincidence. Others might call it a twist of fate or a stroke of luck, or maybe the universe just happened to be in perfect alignment. No matter how you put it, both of us happened to be in the right place at the right time.

I learned later that he'd stayed after baseball practice to run a mile—he'd shown up late for warm-ups, go figure—and I, like an idiot, had managed to lock my keys in my car. I paced the asphalt of the school parking lot, trying over and over to reach my parents, but neither was answering their phone. Seconds after my last failed attempt, my own phone rang. I answered with a frantic, "Hello?"

I'd been hoping for my dad, but instead I heard an unmistakably cold voice, still capable of sending icicles up my spine after nearly three months. "Bella, it's Riley."

I stayed silent, my tongue twisted up in terror.

"Listen to me," he demanded. "I miss you, Bella. We belong together. I'm going to find a way to see you—"

With trembling hands, I snapped my phone shut and shoved it deep into my bag, as if that might keep it from ringing again. I tried to work through the fear, to calm myself down, and at the same time figure out how serious he might be. I hadn't heard from him in a few months. Stupidly, I'd thought the restraining order and the move south had been enough. I should have known better than to underestimate Riley Biers.

Rolling my shoulders, I tried to loosen the sharp claws of anxiety that dug into me. Riley was far away, still in Chicago. He didn't know where I was.

Despite the deep breaths of early spring air I sucked in, my heart continued to pound an alarmingly irregular beat. I cupped my hands and peered through my car window at my keys, lying uselessly on the leather passenger seat. A gust of wind blew through and I shuddered, dreading the time I was about to spend in the darkening parking lot with nothing but the echo of Riley's voice to keep me company. Tears pricked my eyes. I wanted to go home.

The roar of an approaching engine startled me. I spun around to see a silver Volvo pulling up behind my car. The driver's side window slid down and the vaguely familiar face of a boy around my age emerged to assess me. "Hey," he called over the hum of his engine.  
I clasped my still-shaking hands behind my back and snapped, "What?"

He recoiled slightly, like he wasn't used to being spoken to so harshly. "Uh, I wanted to see if you were okay."

"I'm fine," I said with a roll of my eyes.

He leaned further out his window and surveyed the parking lot. "Then why are you standing out here in the dark by yourself?"

I exhaled and pushed my shoulders back, hoping to exude confidence I didn't feel. "I locked my keys in my car. It's hard to go anywhere without them."

"Do you need a ride?"

He must have been crazy. Like I'd accept a ride from a stranger. "I don't know you."

Oozing cockiness, he chuckled in a way that instantly irritated me. "Well, letting me take you home would be a lot safer than standing around alone in the dark."

"My dad will be here soon. He's going to bring me the spare key." _Not that it's any of your business_.

He turned his own key, cutting the hum of his Volvo's engine. "I'll wait with you."

"That's not necessary."

"Yeah, it is. When's your dad coming?"

_Damn it._ I wanted to tell him my dad was coming any minute, that he could fire his engine right back up and go, but he was staring at me expectantly, wide eyes assuming I'd give him an honest answer. "I don't know," I admitted, feeling a little sheepish and very annoyed. "I can't reach him."

"Oh, perfect… so, what, you were just going to sleep out here?"

"No! He'll be home soon. I was going to call him again in a few minutes."

He got out of his Volvo and walked to my BMW, then glanced through the tinted driver's side window while I stood by, watching with apprehension. He took his time, his eyes raking brazenly over the interior until _I_ started to feel exposed— as if he were judging _me_. "This is a fancy car for a teenager, don't you think?"

My jaw dropped at his audacity. I was tempted to argue, but there was no point. My car _was_ ridiculous. The day my father brought it home, brand new and glossy black, I'd quietly accepted it for what it was: a consolation prize for being uprooted in the middle of my senior year, for the life and friends I'd left behind in Chicago. I glanced over at his glossy Volvo. "Like you can talk," was my weak retort.

He laughed again, and I wondered if he was always so arrogant. I'd seen him before, but I couldn't place where. Tall and lean, he had an athlete's build, solid upper body filling out his t-shirt. His eyes were meadow-green, his hair like a shiny penny, mostly hidden under a red and white baseball hat.

I averted my gaze as he made a show of pulling his phone out of the back pocket of his well-worn jeans. He looked at the time on the digital display, then at me. "So, what are we going to do now?"

I sighed at his persistence, his assumption that we were in this together, though in truth, I was angrier with Riley and myself than him. "_We_ aren't going to do anything. You're going to get back in your car and go home."

His face finally fell. "You know, you could at least pretend to be appreciative. Who knows what might happen if I left you alone out here in the dark. At least now you've got pleasant company."

"_Pleasant_?"

My blatant mockery must have exhausted the last of his patience because he crossed his arms over his chest, all the warmth gone from his eyes. "Has anyone ever told you you're overindulged and unappreciative?"

"Has anyone ever told you you're smug and presumptuous?" I fired back.

"Look, you're crazy if you think I'm going to leave you out here all alone. What kind of person would I be if I did that?"

"What kind of person would I be if I climbed into a car with a stranger?" And there it was—chivalrous or not, I didn't trust him.

"I don't think I qualify as a stranger," he said with a new gentleness. He gestured toward the red brick buildings across the parking lot. "We go to the same school."

I looked at him then, really seeing him for the first time. Recognition and then humiliation registered as my cheeks went hot. He was in my fifth period class. I'd been sitting a few rows in front of him all semester. "You have Math with Mrs. Cope, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do," he answered, obviously satisfied by my embarrassment. He stuck out his hand for me to shake. "I'm Edward Masen."

I couldn't find my voice right away. Despite my bitchiness, he was introducing himself—politely, no less. He should have left me in a cloud of exhaust five minutes ago, but now he was grinning and extending his hand as if he _wanted_ to know me.

I slipped my hand into his. "Bella Swan."

"It's nice to finally meet you."

"Likewise." He'd known who I was all along. It would've been nice if he'd clued me in, but I couldn't fault him. If Riley hadn't called, if my keys hadn't been locked in my car, if I'd been paying more attention, I would have recognized him, too. Edward played baseball—well, apparently. I'd been hearing his name on the morning announcements since the season started. I'd even seen his picture in the local paper a few times. We'd never talked, but then, I didn't really talk to anyone other than Rosalie.

"It's kind of cold tonight," Edward said. "Maybe we could sit in my car while we wait for your dad to come?"

"You're really going to wait?"

"Yeah, I am. Unless you do the rational thing and let me drive you home."

I bit my lip, weighing my options. He seemed like a decent enough guy. He'd put up with me this long, and I really didn't want to wait around for my parents to get home.

"All right," I said, bending to pick my school bag up off the ground. I followed him to the passenger door of his Volvo and failed to hide my surprise when he opened it for me. "Thank you."

He moved out of the way so I could climb in, but I didn't miss the way he looked me up and down as I stepped up onto the running board. "I know I'm a stranger and all, but I'm not really all that scary," he pointed out once I was seated.

I cracked a small smile. He didn't _seem_ scary, but neither had Riley—at least not in the beginning. "I'll try to remember that."

He slammed the door and walked around the back while I did a quick survey of my surroundings. The Volvo was a mess, cluttered with clothes and baseball equipment. There were CDs laying loose on the dash and papers I tried not to step on all over the floor. It looked like he lived out of his car. I buckled my seat belt, wondering what I'd gotten myself in to.

"Where to?" he asked once he was settled. I gave him my address as he steered onto the main road from the parking lot, glancing quickly at me to ask, "How long have you lived here?"

"A few months, we moved here right before Christmas."

I'd hated Tennessee at first, hated everything about Ridgeville, but then, without my permission, the South started to grow on me. I found that I enjoyed sweet tea and chess pie, and I couldn't help but smile in the grocery store when I overheard someone refer to a shopping cart as a buggy. How could I _not_ appreciate a town so charming it actually had a tree-lined Main Street?

"Where'd you live before?"

"Chicago."

"Really? White Sox or Cubs?"

Was that some kind of riddle? "Um… what?"

"White Sox or Cubs? You know, Chicago's baseball teams? Who do you follow?"

"Oh." _Obviously_. "The Cubs, I guess. My dad likes the Cubs."

"You're not much of a baseball fan?" He sounded surprised… disappointed.

"Sure." He glanced over and I smiled so he'd know that at least I was a good sport. "It's America's past time, right?"

He laughed for the first time, a deep, pleasant sound that made my stomach do the most unwelcome flip. "Why'd you move here?"

My mood darkened automatically, a dark cloud passing over the sun. _Because my first and only boyfriend was the picture of dysfunction and my dad thought moving was the only way to keep me safe. _An involuntary shiver rushed through me as I tried to come up with a less risky answer.

"Are you cold?" he asked, his eyes skimming quickly over my thin shirt and cropped jeans. He cranked the heat, then rooted blindly in the backseat until he unearthed a red sweatshirt. "Here."

I eyed him warily; putting on a piece of his clothing was far more intimate than I was comfortable with. Besides, my shiver had nothing to do with the cold.

"It's clean," he told me as I held the sweatshirt at arm's length.

"That's not what I was worried about," I mumbled. Against my better judgment, I pulled it over my head, hoping if I could appease him on this issue, he wouldn't think I was a total nut job. I had to admit, the soft cotton felt good against my skin.

"Are you going to tell me why you moved to Ridgeville?" he asked again as I rolled the sleeves of his sweatshirt up over my hands.

"You're very inquisitive, Edward. Do you always interrogate people you've just met?"

"No… not really. You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"It's okay, I guess. My parents wanted a bigger house and more space. It was crowded where we used to live." A half-truth, the best I could do. "How long have _you_ lived here?"

"My whole life."

"I figured."

"Did you? Is it that obvious?"

"Yes. You're very helpful. People who grow up in big cities usually aren't." Plus, he had a cute lazy drawl—a dead giveaway.

"That's too bad. The world would be a better place if people were more considerate."

I studied him, amused. He was smiling again, like maybe he didn't hate me quite as much as he probably should have. What I knew so far of Edward was mystifying—a messy, idealistic jock with adorable dimples and good manners.

"What now?" he asked, his eyes finding mine.

I whipped my head forward, embarrassed to have been caught admiring him. "Nothing!"

I played with the beaded bracelet on my wrist, trying to get my thoughts together. He was dangerously charming. I knew nothing about him, but I could feel myself sinking easily into his trap. I'd fallen for it before—handsome, gracious, easy to talk to. It had all been a sham. Edward was exactly the type of guy I'd run from a few months before, exactly the type of guy I'd been trying to forget.

"What were you doing at school so late?" he asked, rolling to a stop at a red light, one of the few traffic signals in town.

"Tutoring."

"Who do you tutor?" He was relentless with the questions. It was hard to tell if he was interested or just filling the quiet.

"Whoever shows up needing help with math, mostly sophomores and juniors."

"How often?"

"Twice a week, Wednesdays and Thursdays. It's a volunteer thing, something I did in Chicago, too. You know, good to put on college admission applications."

"Do you know where you're going next year?"

"Watkins. It's an art school in Nashville." Watkins was a new development. I'd been slated for The Art Institute of Chicago, but my father had refused to allow me to go anywhere within one-hundred miles of Riley. Watkins it was. "What about you?"

"Belmont. I'm going to play ball there."

"Speaking of which," I said, more than ready to turn the questions on him. "What were _you_ doing at school so late? Doesn't practice let out before dark?"

He frowned. "Yeah, usually. Coach Cullen wanted me to run a few extra laps."

"Why? Aren't you one of the best players?" I said it frankly, like I didn't care one way or the other, but I knew he was.

"It's a long story," he sighed before turning left onto the narrow road that led to my house. As we reached the top of the hill, the trees became sparse and then we pulled onto the too-grand-for-Ridgeville circular driveway. "This is where you live?" he asked, unable to keep the awe from his voice.

I hated being judged, especially on things like my house and car. That was one of the reasons I liked spending time with Rosalie, the closest friend I'd made in Ridgeville. She was usually so absorbed in herself that she missed all the odd little things about my life I liked to keep tucked away.

"Yes. Thanks for the ride. I appreciate it." If it weren't for him, I would've spent half the night sitting outside in the dark, worrying Riley would call back.

"Anytime."

I moved to take off his sweatshirt, but he stopped me. "Keep it. It's cold tonight."

"But you might need it."

"Nah, you can give it back to me at school."

I stepped down to the driveway, slung my bag over my shoulder, then headed toward the house. As comfortable as I was in Edward's sweatshirt, I was glad to be free of his deep gaze and disarming questions.

"Bella!" he called from behind me.

I turned and took a few steps back toward his idling Volvo. "Yes?"

"Do you have a way into the house?"

"Oh, yes. There's a keypad on the garaged door."

"All right." He grinned, wide and unguarded, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. He was very cute. I needed to get inside before my blush betrayed me.

"Thanks again. Have a good night."

"Yeah, you too. I'll see you in Math tomorrow?" It sounded like a question, like he wasn't sure if I'd go back to ignoring him during fifth period. As much as I wanted to, as much as I knew I should, I wasn't sure I'd be able to.

"Sure, thanks again for the ride."

I turned again toward the house, feeling kind of dazed and much better than I had all day.

**A/N - Thanks for reading. As you probably noticed, I've changed some of Stephenie Meyer's Twilight details - namely the setting, Bella's car, the fact that Bella's parents are together, and a few other things that will become apparent in the future. These details are crucial to this storyline. Hopefully it won't bug you too much that I've made some adjustments. I would greatly appreciate any feedback you might be willing to offer, so please click REVIEW when you're done here. **

**Chapter TWO will post this time next week. :)**


	2. Two

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

**Decided to post a few days before originally planned. Hope that's okay :)**

**Please be advised that this is a story about rape, it's effects on a high school relationship, and the beginning steps of recovery for both the victim and her significant other. I have already written this story in its entirety (I will update weekly) and can assure you that there are no scenes of gratuitous violence or graphic sexual assault. The topics of abuse and sexual assault are handled realistically, but with upmost sensitivity. Still, if rape is a topic that is especially upsetting to you, you might want to read another story. **

**All Twilight references belong to Stephenie Meyer. Original material belongs to this author.**

CHAPTER TWO

**Edward**

Baseball practice was a bust. Instead of concentrating on the fielding drills Coach Cullen assigned, I'd relived every detail of last night's exchange with Bella, her big brown eyes and bright smiling swimming persistently through my head. She'd been feisty, telling it like it was, and stubborn as hell. She hadn't given two shits about who I was or what I looked like, which was both strange and intriguing. I wanted to see her again, if only to satisfy my curiosity. I had to know if the attraction I'd felt was because she was hot and an obvious challenge, or if it was something deeper.

I was going to ask her to have dinner with me.

Practice was short and sweet, thank God. I was showered and nearly dressed by the time my friends came in off the field.

"Where's the fire, Masen?" Emmett asked, dropping his equipment bag to run a hand through his dark curls.

I bent to tie my shoes, avoiding his question.

"What's going on?" Jasper asked.

"I've got to go," I said, evasive as always.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Emmett asked.

I crammed my uniform into my gym bag. "I've got plans."

"Hot date?" Jasper asked flippantly.

Emmett gave up on kicking off his cleats and spun around, gaping at me. "You'd better not!" Dating was the eighth deadly sin as far as he was concerned. He'd been appalled when Jasper admitted to falling head over heels for our friend Alice last year, calling him a 'traitor to the cause' for weeks.

"It's none of your business," I said for what must have been millionth time over the course of our decade-long friendship. I grabbed my bag and headed to the parking lot, escaping their curious stares.

I moved my Volvo into the empty spot next to Bella's car, hoping she'd show up before Jasper and Emmett made it outside. If they spotted me with her, they'd be all over me about it. The last thing I needed.

It felt like hours, but I'd only been waiting a few minutes when she appeared in the distance, strolling through the grassy courtyard toward the parking lot. I climbed out of my Volvo and leaned against the front, arms crossed over my chest, aiming for casual.

She had her head down as she walked, rooting around in her bag, probably looking for her car keys. When an evening breeze blew her dark hair back from her face, it was impossible to pull my eyes from her. Even from a distance she was gorgeous.

She fished her keys from her bag and raised her eyes, looking momentarily startled by my presence before recognition crossed her face. Then she broke into a wide grin—an encouraging reaction.

"Hi," she said, clicking a button on her key chain remote to unlock her car.

"How was tutoring?"

"Fine. How was baseball?"

"Good, thanks."

We stared at each other for a few awkward seconds, each apparently waiting for the other to continue.

"What are you doing here?" she finally asked.

"I wanted to take you to dinner," I said, then I remembered my manners and rephrased. "I mean, I liked talking with you last night, and was hoping you'd come to dinner with me."

Her eyes went wide.

_She's going to say no_, I thought, dismayed. What the hell had made me think this was a good idea? I shifted my weight, insecure, trying to come up with a tactful way to backpedal that would leave me with a shred of dignity. "Do you not want to?"

"No! I'm sorry. I'm just… surprised. I was sort of hideous to you last night. I thought you were going to hate me."

_God, hardly_, I thought, trying to recall what I'd said to make her think that. Overindulged and unappreciative, I'd called her. What a pleasant first impression I must've made.

"Uh, no. I don't hate you. In fact, I probably wasn't very nice either."

"But if it weren't for you, I would've been waiting around in the dark for a very long time."

"So?" I asked, opening the passenger door of the Volvo in invitation.

She smiled, dark eyes dancing in the light from the street lamps. "Shouldn't I follow you in my car?"

"No, let's ride together. I'll bring you back later."

She locked her school bag in her trunk, then climbed into my car.

"I thought you were going to turn me down for a second there," I said, pulling onto the road that ran parallel to school.

"No, I was just thrown. I've spent the better part of the day thinking I'd made an enemy out of you. I bet girls don't turn you down often," she mused with a wry little smile.

"You did. A couple of months ago."

She looked over at me, clearly confused. "No, I didn't."

"Yeah, you did. Back in February my friend Alice offered to set us up, but you told her you didn't want to date anyone, _especially_ not an athlete."

"_You_ were Alice's friend?"

"You remember?"

"I remember Alice mentioning that she had this good-looking baseball player friend she thought I'd like. I told her no thanks because I'd just moved here and was still settling in." She sighed and gave me an apologetic smile. "I am glad we've met now, though."

We arrived at the restaurant just as the sun dipped below the horizon. She caught me looking—again—and grinned as we headed into the lobby. A hostess led us to the back of the building, seating us at a small table next to an enormous window that overlooked the river. She lit a small candle, dropped our menus on the white table cloth, and walked away.

Bella unfolded her napkin and placed it on her lap while I quickly did the same. "This is a nice place."

"You've never been here?"

"No. I didn't know it existed." She pushed her long hair over her shoulders, revealing little silver earrings that dangled from her ears and caught the light every time she moved. "What do you order?"

I was staring, ogling probably, but if she noticed, it didn't seem to bother her. I had to think for a second before answering. "Uh, I always get steak. I've never tried anything else."

"A meat and potatoes guy. I should have guessed."

I laughed as our waiter appeared and set a basket of bread in the middle of the table. He took our orders and hustled away.

"So, how was your day?" I asked. "Better than yesterday?"

"It was fine, definitely better than yesterday," she said with a frown. "What about you?"

"Fine, also much better than yesterday."

"Things weren't going so well for you either?"

"No, not really. Just some bullshit with my History teacher that ended up making me late for baseball." I'd been late for class and he'd given me lunch detention, forcing me to race home after school to pick up my gear. Coach Cullen, hell-bent on building integrity, was not cool with players showing up late for practice.

"Sounds like you were unlucky," she said.

It all seemed sort of trivial now. "I guess."

"Maybe your luck has changed." Her voice was coy and sweet, but the look in her eyes was intense, nearly smoldering.

"I think it has," I said, unable break eye contact. She had me completely mesmerized, hanging on her every word, and we haven't even had dinner yet. "Tell me about your family?" I asked, ready to find out more about her.

"I have a sister, Emily. She's five years older than me and still lives in Chicago. My dad is a retired police detective. Now, he travels around a lot… freelance consultations and stuff. My mom doesn't work, but she travels with him sometimes."

"And what do you do? Other than tutoring and hanging out in dark parking lots?"

She made a face. "I like art. I paint."

"That's right. Art school." The whole art thing made me even more curious about her. Girls in Ridgeville usually did one of two things after graduation: headed for UT to join a sorority or stuck around town and married young. I tried to imagine her at an easel, brush in hand. "You know, I wouldn't have pegged you as the artsy type."

"I'm not sure if that's good or bad." She smiled. "You're not really living up to my first impressions either."

"What'd you expect?" I asked, dreadfully curious. "Dumb jock?"

"No!" she said, shaking her head. "At first I thought you might be arrogant, but you aren't. Not at all."

I wasn't surprised. She'd called me smug and presumptuous the night before—her first impression had been crystal clear. "I guess my mother would be happy to hear you say that."

The corners of her mouth turned up into a smile, like she was pleased with my answer. Then, out of left field, I had the urge to touch her, to take her hand or trace the line of her cheek, but the waiter reappeared to drop off dinner and the mood changed. When he walked away, I covered my steak in ketchup, a reflexive action that also served as a convenient distraction. Bella gave me a quizzical look.

"What?" I asked.

"That's a nice steak you just drowned."

I glanced down at my plate and shrugged. "Everything's better with ketchup."

She shook her head. "Yuck!"

"You don't like ketchup?" I asked in disbelief.

"I like it fine," she said laughing. "On fries!"

We fell quiet as we ate, but it felt reflective instead of uncomfortable like every other first date I'd ever been on. It seemed neither of us felt the need to fill silence with idle chatter, which was fine with me. Just watching her, the formal way she cut her steak, the dainty little bites she took, the thoughtful glances she threw my way. It was enough to keep me plenty busy.

"Can I get the two of you anything else? Maybe dessert?" our waiter asked when he came to collect our plates.

I was glad when Bella suggested we share something. I asked for the only dessert on the menu I'd tried—chocolate cake.

"So, baseball… that's your thing?" she asked while we waited.

"Definitely."

"How long have you been playing?"

"My whole life."

Her eyes widened. "How's that possible?"

"I learned to run the bases as soon as I could put one foot in front of the other. I started little league when I was five. It's been my life ever since."

"Wow." She leaned forward, her forearms resting on the table in front of her. I leaned in too, mirroring her body language. "Are your parents into baseball?"

"My mom knows how much I love it, so by default, she loves it too."

If she found it weird that my father had yet to come up, she didn't comment. Still, it was the most I'd ever shared with anyone about my family. I couldn't pinpoint why, but talking to Bella was different.

As unsettling as it was, I had an unfounded urge to open up to her.

When our waiter dropped off the cake, we both took a taste.

"This is really good," she said, licking a tiny spot of frosting from her lip.

"I know. I get it every time I come here."

She laughed. "You're sort of a creature of habit, aren't you?"

I shrugged, embarrassed that she'd pegged me so quickly. "Yeah, I can't help it."

"How long have you been friends with Alice?"

"Almost our whole lives," I said, further confirming her theory that my life was dull and repetitive. "Our moms have been best friends since we were in preschool—they work together now. Alice and I were thrown together a lot."

"She's in my sixth period class. She seems like quite a social butterfly."

"You're being polite. She's crazy."

Bella laughed. "She can't be that bad if you've kept her in your life so long. She seems fun. What about her boyfriend? Are you friends with him too?"

"Yeah, Jasper. I've known him since grade school. We've played ball together since then, along with Emmett."

"Would that be Third Base Emmett?"

My shoulders went suddenly tense. An irrational stab of jealousy hit me at the thought that Emmett might've somehow beaten me to Bella. That'd been game changing. I kept my voice composed, "Is that some kind of nickname?"

She seemed uncomfortable—not a good sign. "My friend Rosalie has her eye on this guy who plays third base. She's called him Third Base Emmettird h for as long as I've known her."

I let out a subtle breath of relief. "That sounds like a pretty fitting nickname," I told her. "Not to mention an obvious innuendo. You should tell Rosalie to keep her distance."

Bella narrowed her eyebrows in contemplation, then burst out laughing. "I'll do that," she said through giggles.

I paid for our food soon after. It was a nice night, clear but cool, twinkling stars dotting the inky black sky. As we walked to my car, our shoes crunching against the gravel, I felt my hand reach involuntarily to take hers, but uncertainty got the better of me and I snatched it back. It was hard to tell if she was gracious, humoring me because I bought her dinner, or if she was as captivated by me as I was by her. She was hard to read—friendly, but there was definitely a wall there.

I let her into the passenger door of my car before climbing in myself. Once settled, she tossed her hair over her shoulders, filling the Volvo with her flowery scent. My mind wandered, imagining how it'd feel to run my fingers through her silky hair, but then her phone started to ring, snapping me out of my daydream.

"Sorry," she mumbled, digging through in her bag. I forced myself to focus on the dark road instead of her hair while she flipped her phone open. "Hello?"

Her greeting was followed by a silence that stretched into the dark night. I glanced once at her while she listened to whatever the caller was saying. Her wide brown eyes went vacant and her pinched mouth was startling. Without a word, she ended the call.

"Everything okay?"

She turned, apparently recovering spontaneously, and gave me a smile that nearly stole my breath away. "There wasn't anyone there. They must have gotten disconnected."

"Oh… weird." The whole thing was shady, I had to admit, but I let it go because I had no reason not to.

Our ride back to the school parking lot passed too quickly.

"I'm going to give you my number," I said after pulling into the parking stall next to her car. I rifled through my glove box for a scrap of paper. "You should call me sometime, if you want."

She took the paper with my number scratched on it and slid it into her bag. "Yes, maybe." She tucked her hair behind her ear and peered at me, freezing me with her gaze. "I had a nice time tonight," she said, her voice soft and genuine.

"Me too." A severe understatement.

I got out to open her door. She paused after hopping down to the pavement, like she wasn't sure if there was more to say. I smiled, distracted, wondering if she had any idea how pretty she was or what her gazes were doing to me. I wondered if she knew how fascinated I was already becoming with her. But most of all, as I stood there looking back into her warm eyes, I wondered how she'd feel about me kissing her, because I was fighting the urge to do just that.

Instead, I mustered all my will power and stepped away. My desire for her to see me as gentlemanly and not an asshole with raging hormones was victorious.

"I guess I'll see you in class tomorrow," she said with a hint of disappointment that made me second guess my decision to keep my hands to myself. Her mixed signals were killing me.

"Yeah, definitely."

I stood like a statue and watched her taillights leave the parking lot, already trying to come up with an excuse to see her again.

**Thanks for reading. Reviews are greatly appreciated. I'd love to know what you think! :)**

**Chapter Three will post this weekend. **


	3. Three

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

**So, I've decided on a twice-weekly posting schedule for this story. I'll be updating every Sunday and Wednesday because... well, waiting a whole week is just no fun. :) Also, my oneshot, You Saved Me, was recced on Sparkling Citrus for their Stand Alone Saturday feature. Check out the review at www(dot)sparklingcitrus(dot)weebly(dot)com. Thanks, Rosalynn! You Saved Me can be found on my profile page. **

**As usual, please be advised that this is a story about rape, it's effects on a high school relationship, and the beginning steps of recovery for both the victim and her significant other. I have already written this story in its entirety and can assure you that there are no scenes of gratuitous violence or graphic sexual assault. The topic of sexual assault is handled realistically, but with upmost sensitivity. Still, if rape is a topic that is especially upsetting to you, you might want to read another story. **

**All Twilight references belong to Stephenie Meyer. Original material belongs to this author.**

CHAPTER THREE

**Bella**

"How long is this going to continue?" my father bellowed after a long swallow of beer. "You've been out with him too many times over the last week. I don't like where this is going."

"We like hanging out, Dad. It's no big deal. Very innocent."

For whatever reason, Edward had decided he wanted to get to know me better after our first meeting. He'd taken me to dinner with his friends, we'd studied together and we'd been to the movies. He held doors open, picked up checks, and let me choose radio stations in his Volvo. He kept his hands to himself—possibly because of the subtly stand-offish vibe I couldn't help but give off—but whatever the reason, hanging out with Edward couldn't have been _more_ innocent.

"There's no such thing as innocent! Do you really need to see him every night?"

"No, but I like spending time with him. We have fun together."

"You're barely eighteen years old. You've been seeing too much of him."

My mother, always the calm to my father's storm, touched his hand in warning. "Bella," she said to me, "we just want what's best for you."

I exhaled, trying not to get worked up. I hated how overprotective my dad had become. He was pretty relaxed about me hanging out with Rose, but ever since Edward's name came up at dinner a few nights before, Charlie had bordered on unreasonable. "We're just going to his house for dinner. It's not a big deal."

My father huffed. His face took on the startling red tint I knew meant trouble. "It seems like you've already forgotten about what happened last time you spent time alone with a boy."

In fact, wanted nothing more than to forget, but that wasn't going to happen. "This is completely different. I would never put myself in that position again. Edward's nothing like Riley. He's—" I was close to tears at the thought of describing Edward to my parents. The two of us had been hovering in a gray area for the last week, walking a tightrope between friends and more-than-friends. I thought he was nothing short of amazing, but I had no idea what he thought of me. Sometimes he looked like he was merely amused by my company, but other times he'd gaze at me with such intensity I felt like he was seeing directly into my soul.

My mother's face had softened considerably. "He's what, sweetie?"

"He's… good. We're friends." It was becoming more than that, for me, at least, and it was overwhelming. I took a deep breath and refocused, adopting my most mature voice. "I think Edward and I will be spending a lot of time together. I like him. He makes me happy."

My mom exchanged a glance with my father, pleading with him to be compassionate. I felt an unexpected surge of love for Renee. She was doing her best to be my ally, going against my father, something she rarely did.

He let out a loud, exasperated sigh. "Okay, go. This is the last time we'll talk about this, but I want you to know, I'm letting you go because I trust _you_. I do _not_ trust him."

That was a start, at least. "Thank you, Dad." I hugged both him and my mom before moving quickly toward the stairs.

"I want to meet him!" Charlie shouted after me.

I shuddered at the thought of Edward and my father in the same room. Poor Edward.

In my bedroom I threw on a clean pair of jeans and pulled my hair into a ponytail. When the doorbell chimed ten minutes after Edward was due to show up, I rushed downstairs, hoping to reach him before my dad.

He was smiling when I threw the door open, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. I breezed past him onto the porch without much of a greeting. "Let's go, okay? My parents are home."  
"You don't think I should say hello? I don't want them to think I'm rude."

"They won't."

With a last glance toward the house, he shrugged and followed me to the driveway.

"I'm sorry," I said once we were safely in the Volvo. "That had nothing to do with you. My dad can be a little overwhelming, you know, lots of questions. He used to be a pro at scaring Emily's boyfriends away." I cringed the moment the word left my mouth. _Boyfriend_. Edward wasn't my boyfriend.

If he was alarmed by my word choice, he didn't show it. "I've never met a girl's parents before," he told me as we headed down the hill.

That was a surprise. I hadn't asked, but I'd figured he'd had at least a few girlfriends, what with the smile and the eyes and the baseball…. "Well, you don't have to worry. I wasn't about to put you through that."

"But I'll get to meet them sometime?"

"Do you _want_ to meet them?"

He laughed. "Well, no, not really, but I probably should."

Excitement nearly bubbled out of me at the possible implication of his words. "Okay. I'll introduce you sometime."

He smiled, but it seemed forced, like the reality of meeting the Swans made him suddenly nervous. Hoping to distract him, I leaned over onto the center console, resting my arm next to his.

"You smell good," he said, his impulsivity surprising me.

"Really? Thanks."

"Like lavender."

He was right, but that didn't keep me from wondering how he'd guessed. "How do you know what lavender smells like?"

He grinned, sheepish. "My mother has lavender plants in our backyard. She dries the flowers and does all kinds of weird shit with them… potpourri and stuff… I don't know." He was flustered, a rare occurrence from what I'd seen so far. I couldn't help but bask in the little shock of pride I got from knocking Edward Masen's confidence off kilter. "It smells good though, you remind me of it."

"Your mom likes flowers?"

"Yeah, she's a florist. She owns a shop in town."

He'd only mentioned his parents in passing. I hadn't pushed him on the topic, but I was dying of curiosity. "Do you spend any time there?"

"I help out a lot during the summer with deliveries and stuff. It's her busiest season, you know, with all of the weddings."

"That sounds fun. What's the name of her shop?"

"Petals. And it's not that much fun," he answered with an easy grin.

I was quiet as he pulled into his driveway. I felt him watching me as my gaze skimmed over his house—a little cottage with a wide front porch, bright red door, a rose garden lining the fence, and antique shutters framing each window.

I turned to face him. "Your house is like a fairytale."

He reached up to brushed a few stray strands of hair away from my face, his fingertips barely grazing my cheek. It was the closest he'd gotten to touching me since the night we met and my skin tingled at the slight contact. I took his hand before he could pull away, needing him to know that my hesitancy when it came to physical contact had nothing to do with him. His fingers closed around mine while we looked at each other, a thousand words spoken in silence, thrilling and terrifying all at once.

_Friends,_ I'd told my parents. The idea suddenly seemed laughable.

After a few seconds the moment passed and time seemed to start again. I let go of his hand and we headed for the house. A yellow Lab was waiting for us in the kitchen, her tail spinning like helicopter blades.

Edward patted her head. "This is Maggie. I hope you like dogs."

I knelt down to scratch behind her ears. She licked my hand, apparently pleased that she'd won over a new friend. "I love dogs. I've wanted one since I was little, but my parents have always been against it."

"Why?"

"They're into cleanliness. They think dogs are messy creatures." Then I addressed Maggie, my voice an octave higher than normal, "But you aren't, are you?" I gave her a final pat, then wandered further into the cheery kitchen. "These are so pretty," I said gesturing to the vase of Calla lilies sitting in the middle of the kitchen table.

"My mom brings her work home a lot."

I ran my finger gently across the edge of a white petal. "I love to paint flowers."

He smiled at that, then pulled out a chair so I could sit. "Are you hungry?"

"Definitely, what are you making?"

He faltered. "Grilled cheese."

I laughed, not caring at all that he wasn't serving a gourmet meal. "Do you need help?"

"Nope. Your job is to keep me company," he said clicking on a burner on the gas stove. He got busy slicing cheese and buttering bread while I snuck a peek at the photographs stuck to the fridge with a bunch of random magnets. There were several of Maggie as a tiny fur ball of a puppy and a few of Edward at various ages, always in a ball cap. His dimples and firey hair had traveled with him through childhood and I couldn't help but be drawn in by his effortless smile and innocent eyes. Other than an obvious growth spurt and sharper jaw line, he hadn't changed much.

The sizzle of sandwiches hitting the hot skillet pulled my attention back to the kitchen. I smiled up at him from my chair. "Are your parents home?"

"My mom's out to dinner with Alice's mom."

"Will she care that I'm over here while she's not home?"

He laughed. "Nah. She's not big on rules."

"I have this vision of her in my head."

He gave the sandwiches a flip with a spatula before pulling out another chair and joining me at the table. "Tell me about your vision and I'll tell you if you're close."

"Okay, well… she must be good with her hands and she must have an eye for simple, beautiful things." I paused, meeting his gaze, suddenly worried that I was overstepping, that this was going to backfire. He gave me a quick, encouraging nod and I went on. "She has high expectations for the people she loves, but she doesn't pressure. She's devoted, inquisitive and supportive. I also have a feeling that I'd like her a lot. Oh, and of course she'd adore me," I finished with a playful smile.

He was staring at me like I'd sprouted a third arm.

"What? Am I way off?"

"No. You're right about everything. How'd you guess all that?"

"I'm observant," I said with a lift of my shoulders. He looked at me, skeptical, waiting for more. "Edward, she would have to be all those things for you to be the person you are. It's obvious."

He took my hand, fitting it snuggly between his warm, calloused palms. "You were right about the last part too. She's definitely going to like you."

"I hope so."

We must have smelled the grilled cheese at the same time because he jumped up to remove the sandwiches from the heat before they burned. He slid a sandwich onto each of our plates and then went to the refrigerator.

"Ketchup again?" I asked as he set the bottle on the table.

"Hey, don't judge." He pushed the bottle toward me. "You should give it a shot."

"No thanks. I take my grilled cheese straight up." He watched with interest as I took a little bite and chewed, gooey smoked cheddar on sourdough. Yum. "This is really good."

"Yeah, I know. You should try it with the ketchup." He dipped the corner of his own sandwich and took a big bite.

I didn't imagine that Esme Masen—with her shabby chic decorating sense and love of fresh flowers—considered ketchup to be a food group the way Edward clearly did. I was willing to bet he got his freaky ketchup obsession from his father. "You never talk about your dad, Edward. What's he like?"

His eyes darkened, crowded with memories that flipped his demeanor in a matter of seconds. His father was obviously off limits. I waited quietly, my face relaxed and free of the anxiety that coiled around me, hoping he'd tell me _something_.

"He died when I was ten."

My gaze fell to my plate. "Was he sick?"

"No."

My eyes met his again, begging him to trust me the way I was growing to trust him. The tension in the kitchen was becoming unbearably thick. For a second I thought he was going to tell me to shut up and mind my own business, but then his expression became softer. Something between us had shifted.

"It was a car accident," he said putting his sandwich down. His smile was long gone and he looked so vulnerable in that moment I wanted to hug him. I didn't dare. It was obvious this was something he held close, something he worked through on his own. "He argued with my mom, then went out drinking with some friends and wrapped his truck around a tree on his way home."

It was the last thing I'd been expecting him to say and my heart hurt for him. It was hard to believe Mr. All-American had anything but sunshine in his past. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. It was a long time ago. He was a good guy. He taught me everything I know about baseball."

"It's not something you talk about, is it?"

"No, never."

"Thank you for telling me."

He shrugged. "I'm glad I did." He went back to his sandwich, seemingly satisfied with the little bit of history he'd let me in on.

I followed his lead, chewing thoughtfully, feeling like a major fraud. There I was prodding him for information and I'd yet to mention anything of real significance about my own past. Sure, he hadn't asked, but that was hardly an excuse. If he did, I didn't think I was ready to tell him the truth. I wanted to—hiding any part of myself from Edward felt like the blackest kind of wrong—but I wasn't proud of who I'd been when I was with Riley. I didn't want Edward to know that meek, defenseless girl. I'd worked too hard to bury her.

When we finished our sandwiches, I insisted on helping with kitchen clean up. Edward agreed, probably because he was tired of me complaining about how he picked up the check every time we did anything together. We were down to the last few dishes when he passed me a water glass to dry. It somehow slipped as it passed from his hand to mine, shattering against the hardwood floor.

"Oh, my God!" I exclaimed. "I'm so sorry!"

"Don't worry about it, Bella. It was my fault."

"No, I should have been paying more attention." I crouched down to survey the mess.

"It's no big deal. I break stuff all of the time. Don't touch the glass. I'm going to grab a broom."

He was out of the room for a total of ten seconds. By the time he returned, I was standing next to the sink, a wad of paper towel wrapped around my sliced index finger.

He stopped short and stared. "Please tell me you didn't cut yourself."

"Okay… I didn't cut myself," I parroted, more than a little embarrassed.

"Bella! I said _not _to touch the glass!"

I shrank back from his raised voice before I could stop myself. He must have noticed because his volume was much softer when he spoke again. "Does it hurt?"

"No. It's not deep. I was just trying to pick up the big pieces."

Holding my gaze, he approached cautiously, like he was afraid I'd dash at any second. He led me back to the kitchen table and nudged me down into a chair. "Promise me you won't move."

"Where are you going?"

"To get some Band-Aids, I'll be right back." He disappeared to the second floor where I heard him rustling around until he came bounding back down the stairs with a small white box in hand. "Did you rinse the cut already?"

"Yes, doctor," I said, hoping to divert his attention from my slip a few minutes before. "Really, Edward. You don't have to go to any trouble."

"Look, I don't want you bleeding to death. That'd kind of put a damper on… this," he said, motioning back and forth between the two of us.

He crouched in front of my chair and took hold of my wrist while I tried to slow my pounding heart. He was close, so close I could pick up the clean fragrance of his soap, a fresh, outdoorsy scent I immediately associated with his sweatshirts—the ones I'd been borrowing over the past few chilly nights.

He locked his eyes on mine and pushed the sleeve of my cardigan up, then let his hand trail back down my bare skin with blatant slowness. Goose bumps erupted immediately, but I was more worried about the scar on my arm. Riley had left it there many months before, a glaring and constant reminder of his abuse. I hated it. If Edward noticed it, he'd surely have questions.

To my relief, he focused on unwrapping the wad of paper towel from my finger. His brow furrowed in concentration while he inspected the tiny gash, as if he held varsity baseball letters _and_ a medical degree. "You're right," he murmured. "It's still bleeding, but it's not a bad cut."

I sat still, captivated, as he tore the paper wrapper from a Band-Aid. I wasn't used to this—being taken care of, protected. Riley had hurt me more times that I could count and never once had he taken any responsibility for it. He wasn't the type to get upset about a bruise or a little blood and he'd definitely never worried about whether I was in any pain. Watching Edward fasten the Band-Aid securely around my finger, it became clear that I'd found Riley's opposite.

"There," he said with satisfaction.

The job was done, but he didn't let go of my hand. Instead, he weaved his fingers through mine while I looked on, fascinated by the way our hands fit together. He let his free hand trail up my bare arm again, then back down, his expression startlingly reverent. My earlier doubts about his feelings vanished as he knelt in front of me, pinning me to my chair with his questioning gaze and warm smile. I knew then with certainty where this was going. His bright green eyes were asking permission, almost daring me. I gave a little shiver and leaned in, nervous butterflies dancing in my stomach.

"Bella, I really want to kiss you," he whispered.

God, I wanted that too. I needed to know how his mouth felt on mine, if I'd experience that same spark of excitement I'd felt when he'd held my hand. "Then you should."

He took my face gently between both of his hands and I felt cherished, like kissing me was the only thing he wanted to do, the only thing he could think of. I closed my eyes as his lips touched mine, tentatively at first, and then deeper, until I was falling into him, losing myself in the best way possibly. Looping my arms around his neck, I pulled him closer, encouraging him. Gently, he ran his tongue along my bottom lip, then teased my mouth open, exploring. I melted into him, his body so right against mine, broad shoulders and hard chest, warm skin and soft hair.

It was the kind of kiss you remember—slow and deep, lingering, backed by all kinds of unspoken emotion—the kind of kiss you compare all the others to.

It ended too soon. I pulled back, letting my hands run down his chest. "We'd better get this mess cleaned up."

"I'll do it. You sit."

I pretended to pout while he swept the glass into a dust pan and threw it away. Then he finished the last of the dishes and wiped the counters and table top clean.

"Let's go sit in the living room." He led me out of the kitchen and into a cozy living room with golden walls and a stone fireplace. He sat down on the sofa, throwing his feet up onto a cedar chest that served as a coffee table. I took in my surroundings, trying to decide where to sit. I wanted him to kiss me again, but plopping down next to him on the couch seemed a little presumptuous. I finally chose one of the two overstuffed chairs next to the fireplace.

"Really? That's where you want to sit?" he asked looking sadly at the empty space next to him.

Unable to hide my smile, I got up to join him on the sofa. He draped an arm around my shoulders and I leaned into him like it was the most natural thing in the world, like we'd been sitting side by side on his mother's comfy couch for years. I couldn't come up with any explanation for why it was so easy with Edward, but something about his presence grounded me in a way I hadn't known I needed, like I finally had earth under my feet after treading water for far too long.

I snuck a not so subtle glance. I liked him—too much probably, especially considering the short time we'd known each other. But even then, time didn't seem to matter. I shifted a bit on the couch so we were facing each other and reached up to turn his baseball hat backward so the bill wasn't in the way. He smiled at my transparent hint before he leaned in to kiss me again. His fingers tangled in my hair, then gave a gentle tug, tipping my head back for better access. Even preoccupied by his eager mouth and roaming hands, it didn't escape my notice that kissing Edward made my body warm and tingly, like I was melting away into something else entirely. Kissing him was something I'd had more than one daydream about since the night we met.

###

My parents were waiting up for me, sitting in my father's office right off the foyer. They looked startled when they saw me come in, probably because I couldn't wipe the silly grin off of my face, and they were full of questions. Once I gave them an overview of my night, passing over a few choice details, they backed off. My dad was still unconvinced, but my mom seemed legitimately happy for me. I went upstairs to my bedroom feeling lighter than I had in months, my head swimming with possibilities.

As soon as I'd gotten comfortable in bed, my phone started to ring. I jumped up, convinced it was Edward. I dug frantically through my purse, hoping to catch him before my voicemail picked up. When I finally yanked my phone out of my bag and looked at the display my stomach twisted into knots.

It was Riley.

At that moment I felt a surge hate so powerful it stunned me—he was tarnishing a night that should have been nothing but perfect. I flipped my phone open and then snapped it shut immediately. I had no desire to speak to Riley; I had nothing to say to him. He didn't deserve the satisfaction of intimidating me.

But he _did_ intimidate me. The fear was almost paralyzing. My heart pounded, my palms got clammy, and my vision went hazy. I moved toward my bed, but not before I stumbled, falling awkwardly onto the mattress. Somewhere in the small part of my brain that was still lucid, I wondered if this was what a panic attack felt like. I curled onto my side, closed my eyes and tried to take slow, even breaths, all the while thinking about how much I despised Riley for still having this effect on me, months later and hundreds of miles away. Why couldn't he just leave me alone?

###

Rosalie called the next day. My mother brought the phone to my room where I was sitting at my easel, painting Calla lilies against a midnight blue background.

"Where have you been?" Rose asked without so much as a greeting.

"Studying."

"Yeah, right. It's Saturday. Let's do something."

"I can't. My sister's coming to visit from Chicago today."

"Are you going to tell me how your date went?"

"It wasn't a date. It was dinner, and it was good."

"Hmm… define good."

"It was fun. That's all you're going to get out of me."

"Has he kissed you yet?"

We'd made out on his couch for nearly two hours. "That's private."

"He has! I knew it! He likes you, Bella!"

He did. I didn't doubt his feelings. After last night, after those kisses… I couldn't. "I wouldn't go that far. We have a good time together."

"He _likes_ you," she sang again. "From what I know about Edward Masen, he doesn't waste his time with girls and dating, and yet he's spent every night of the last week with you. I bet he's an amazing kisser."

He was. Smiling, I highlighted one of the leaves on my canvas with a stroke of emerald paint. "Is there something specific you called for, Rose?"

"Oh, yeah. I want to know all about Third Base Emmett."

I stifled a giggle at her nickname for Edward's friend. "He's okay. Kind of crass, but kind of funny, too." I liked Emmett. I liked all of Edward's friends, in fact. Jasper was sweet and thoughtful and Alice's constant enthusiasm was contagious. The bond between the four of them was enviable.

"Emmett's hot. When are you going to introduce me?"

"Soon." There was a quick knock at my door before my mother came in again, this time carrying a vase of the most gorgeous pink flowers I'd ever seen. "I've got to go, Rose. I'll call you later."

"These just came," my mom said as I hung up the phone.

"For _me_?"

She nodded, setting the vase down on my nightstand. "There's a card."

She left me alone to fish it out from among the dense grouping of dusty pink roses and fuchsia dahlias. There were long sprigs of purple lavender too.

_Last night was amazing. I can't wait to see you again. –Edward_

My cheeks warmed. Alone in my room, I stood grinning and giddy. Apparently there were perks to going out with a guy whose mother was a florist.

**What's the kiss you measure all the others against? **

**Thanks for reading. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated! :)**


	4. Four

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

**Thanks so much to my lovely and loyal reviewer, Indunga! I know more are reading and I'd love to hear your opinions as well. :)**

**Please be advised that this is a story about rape, it's effects on a high school relationship, and the beginning steps of recovery for both the victim and her significant other. I can assure you that there are no scenes of gratuitous violence or graphic sexual assault. The topics of abuse and sexual assault are handled realistically, but with upmost sensitivity. Still, if rape is a topic that is especially upsetting to you, you might want to read another story. **

**All Twilight references belong to Stephenie Meyer. Original material belongs to this author.**

**Let's find out more about Riley, shall we?**

CHAPTER FOUR

**Edward**

I was interested in her past, her life in Chicago, other guys she'd dated. I'd asked once or twice, aiming for casual, but Bella had been cryptic, mentioning only that her last boyfriend hadn't been very nice. That made me even more curious, but her wall was strong and reinforced; I sensed that trying to chip away at it would get me nowhere fast. Plus, I understood—in a warped sort of way. I'd always valued my privacy. I could hardly fault Bella for holding her own past close.

We'd taken to spending all our free time together. She became a fixture at my baseball games and ate dinner at Fork's Diner with my friends and me after wins. We spent the majority of our lunch hours at a secluded spot by the river. She told me her father bitched about all the time we spent together, but somehow she still managed to escape her house most nights to spend time with me at mine, where my mom would cook mouthwatering meals, then leave the two of us alone to study or watch movies on the couch under a quilt. It all seemed so easy—our relaxed conversations, our almost constant laughter, our growing bond.

But when her phone rang one Wednesday afternoon while we were eating sandwiches at our spot by the river, the easiness slammed to a screeching halt.

Her ring tone changed her expression in a split second, eyes clouded over, mouth tightened into a thin line. She hung up immediately, no words offered to the caller, and then she sat eerily still, staring at her lap.

"Who was that?" I asked conversationally.

She shrugged, tugging on a few blades of grass. "No one."

My voice was heavy with doubt when I repeated, "No one?"

"Yes, no one. Everything's fine, okay?"

"No. Look at your hands… they're shaking."

She clasped them in her lap, a futile effort to stop the trembling. "I can't talk about it," she whispered.

She was freaking me out. I'd never her seen her this way, so skittish and insecure, like a frightened deer. I reached over and untangled her hands from their tight knot, holding one in my lap. "I don't know what's going on, Bella, but I think you need to tell me."

"I didn't want you to know. I thought it was over." As if that was explanation enough.

"Look at me," I said, gently taking her face between my hands. "We have a half hour before we have to be back at school. Tell me what's going on."

She closed her eyes and nodded, her head moving feebly in my hands. "I shouldn't have kept this from you," she said quietly.

"So, you'll tell me now. We'll move on." But I wasn't convinced. Even though we were new, the reality of losing her terrified me. She was so quickly becoming the best part of my life.

"Yes. Yes, we'll move on," she said, but her words were hallow, like dropping a stone into an empty well.

"Who was on the phone?"

"Riley Biers. We used to… go out."

The Not-So-Nice Guy? I sighed deeply, mentally questioning my previous interest in her past. "How long?"

"A few months."

"In Chicago, right?" The quiet calm of my voice was clearly forced. I studied her carefully, searching for signs of deceit.

"He's the reason we moved here. He wasn't… very nice."

"Yeah, I think you've said that before. Why'd you go out with him then?"

"I don't know… peer pressure, stupidity, weakness—take your pick."

I got it then, her occasional jumpiness, her initial distrust of me. Her watery brown eyes were full of emotion—vulnerability, uncertainty, humiliation. It was bad, whatever had gone down between Bella and this Riley. She hadn't hidden her past to be devious; she'd hidden it because she was ashamed.

Taking hold of her shoulders, I turned her face toward me and kissed her, soft and adoring. My mouth traveled across her cheek to her ear. "You're not weak," I whispered. "Whatever happened, whatever he did to you, it wasn't your fault."

And then she started talking, words pouring from her mouth unfiltered. "It wasn't healthy, even in the very beginning. He called me constantly, always checking in. He yelled often. He hit me occasionally. He always pressured me to go farther than I was willing." She looked toward the sun, her eyes sad and distant with memories.

"We went to the movies one night. My guard was down. We were in public with lots of people. Riley got aggressive the second the theater darkened. It was like a switch in his head had flipped. He was all over me, grabbing me, trying to get my clothes out of the way. I pushed him away over and over, but he was persistent—out of control, actually, like a shark getting its first taste of blood.

"He was livid when we left the theater, angrier than I'd ever seen him. I was terrified, but I got in the car with him anyway. He called me a tease and a whore. I just sat there, taking it all in, wondering what the hell I was doing with him."

She toyed with a lock of her hair while I sat stiffly, horrified and disgusted and _furious_, waiting for her to go on.

"He put his cigarette out on my arm," she whispered. "When I was distracted by the burn, he hit me. It happened so fast, I didn't even see it coming." Her tone was flat, void of emotion, but her hand moved to rub the underside of her forearm.

I'd been expecting something awful, but it was hard to wrap my head around. I grasped her arm and twisted it, my gaze falling on a spot smaller than a dime where her skin was pale and slightly raised. I ran my fingers over the scar, the flesh there a puckered contrast to her otherwise baby-soft skin.

"He did this to you?"

She nodded.

"God, Bella. I don't even know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. It was my fault. I knew he was unstable. I never should have stayed with him."

"What happened next?"

"He drove me home. He was all apologies, but I was beyond my limit. Fury replaced fear the second that cigarette touched my skin. I told him to go to hell and left him pleading in the driveway."

"God."

"Yeah… A few days before winter break, he cornered me in the bathroom at school before First Period. I was at a sink washing my hands when he threw the door open and flew at me. He held me against the wall with one of his hands over my mouth, the other pinning my wrists. He said he was going to find a way to, um… be with me, and that he was going to do it whether I wanted to or not. Then the bell rang and he was gone—hey, are you all right?"

The lunch I regretted eating was tossing around in my stomach. My entire body was hot and I felt lightheaded. I wasn't all right, but I nodded anyway.

"Seriously, Edward, you look horrible."

I sighed and rubbed my face with my hands. "This is beyond fucked up. It's hard to hear, but I need you to tell me the rest. What'd you do?"

She looked at me doubtfully, but went on. "I called my dad. He pulled me out of school and filed for a restraining order. He and my mom decided it was as good a time as any to pick up and go. We left for Ridgeville within a week. I haven't seen Riley since that day, but he called me for weeks after we moved. When my dad found out he had my number changed. I hadn't heard from Riley since January, until a few days ago when he started calling again."

"How did he get your phone number?" It was such a trivial detail, but my brain was processing too much information. It was the only question I could focus on.

"I don't know. I assume one of the few friends in Chicago I gave it to passed it on to him, not realizing I wouldn't want him to have it."

"How many times has he called you?"

She shrugged. "Several. The first time was the night I met you. He called right before you pulled up in the parking lot."

"That's why you were so upset," I said, finally putting the pieces together. "When were the other calls?"

She hesitated. "After our first date, when you were driving me back to my car he called."

I recalled the flicker of fear that had crossed her face when she answered her phone that night. It pissed me off to know he'd called on _our_ first date, that I'd been sitting right there and had no idea what was going on. I felt like an idiot. "That was him?"

She nodded.

"What does he say?"

"That he misses me. That he's trying to find me."

I gaped at her. "Holy shit, Bella. Do you have any idea how serious this is?"

She nodded sort of reluctantly.

"Do your parents know?"

"No!" She was almost shrill; I'd never seen her so lacking in poise. She must've noticed too, because her voice was softer when she said, "They've just started to relax enough to let me out of the house again. If I tell them, they won't let me see you anymore. They won't let me see anyone."

"Can't they just have your number changed?"

"No, Edward. You don't know my father."

I sighed, sensing defeat. There was no way I could make her tell them and I couldn't tell them myself. I hadn't even met them. I looked at her for a long time, compassionate eyes, rosy cheeks, hair moving gently with the wind. She'd been through a terrible ordeal and yet she'd given me a chance. I couldn't figure out what I'd done to deserve her trust.

"My mom and dad will be out late tonight," she said softly. "They're going to Nashville to meet an old contact of my father's. Maybe you can come by after practice? We can talk more, if you want."

I considered, not wanting to piss her parents off before I ever got the chance to meet them, but her timid smile and the guaranteed privacy were impossible to say no to. "Yeah, okay."

**Have you ever kept a major secret from someone you care about? As always, thank you for reading and reviewing. **


	5. Five

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

**Please be advised that this is a story about rape, it's effects on a high school relationship, and the beginning steps of recovery for both the victim and her significant other. I can assure you that there are no scenes of gratuitous violence or graphic sexual assault. The topics of abuse and sexual assault are handled realistically, but with upmost sensitivity. Still, if rape is a topic that is especially upsetting to you, you might want to read another story. **

**All Twilight references belong to Stephenie Meyer. Original material belongs to this author.**

CHAPTER FIVE

**Bella**

I was a nervous wreck waiting for Edward to show up. He'd been more forgiving, more understanding, than I could have imagined. He'd whispered flattering things, many of which were undeserved, all of which were untrue. He'd been sweet and understanding and soothing. He'd promised to come over after practice, even though his Southern Gentleman Rulebook clearly advised against visiting your girlfriend while she's home alone.

But still, I doubted. I had baggage. Edward had no room for baggage. I wasn't sure if when the dust settled, he'd still want me in his life.

I'd spent the time between my tutoring session and his arrival painting my toenails cherry-red, ordering Chinese food for dinner, and baking cookies, all in an effort to distract myself. The long afternoon had given Edward plenty of time to digest what I'd told him. He'd be well within his rights to run for the hills.

My heart jumped into my throat when the doorbell rang. I answered it with a hesitant smile, half expecting him to tell me it was over before he ever crossed the threshold. "How are you?" he asked, damp copper hair peeking out from under his Ridgeville baseball hat.

"Good, come in."

He stepped through the doorway and into the foyer, glancing around at the pale walls and marble floor. He held up a greasy paper bag with the emblem of the local Chinese restaurant on it. "I've got dinner."

Was that the food _I'd_ ordered? My eyes narrowed. "How'd you do that?"

He grinned, guilty. "The driver pulled up at the same time as me."

I bit my lip to hide my exasperation. "_I'm_ supposed to pay when I invite you to dinner."

"I know, but it was a convenient coincidence."

I shook my head. "Edward… what am I going to do with you?"

He followed me into the kitchen and peeked into the double oven. "You're making cookies. We're even."

"Hardly." Everything about our relationship felt _un_even. Edward was the giver, reassuring me, encouraging me, taking care of me. All I ever did was take, like a leech, sucking up his support and comfort, never offering anything in return. I wanted balance. I _needed_ balance.

He wandered into the alcove and set the Chinese food on the kitchen table before returning to the island. Leaning against the granite, he got comfortable, watching as I pulled a tray of cookies out of the oven. He seemed strangely fascinated, his eyes never leaving me as I retrieved a cooling rack from the cabinet above the ovens and a spatula from a drawer. I tucked my hair behind my ears and went about removing the cookies from the sheet, all the while trying to ignore his piercing gaze.

"What?" I asked when I couldn't disregard his scrutiny any longer.

"Nothing. I just like watching you."

I went back to the cookies, unsure of whether the tension in the air was good or bad. It was all very domestic, the two of use in my parents' fancy kitchen, the smell of brown sugar and chocolate chips hanging in the humid air. All that was missing was a frilly, gingham apron tied around my waist.

"This is a nice house," he said after a few minutes.

"Thanks, I guess."

"You don't think so?"

"It's fine," I said with a shrug. "I like your house better."

He let it go and watched me set the kitchen table.

Suddenly my phone began to buzz across the counter top. I tried to keep my face clear of emotion, but I was painfully aware of the dread rushing through me. _Please don't let it be Riley. _I peeked at the display and breathed a sigh of relief. "It's my mom."

Edward nodded.

"How's everything at home?" she asked after I'd answered.

"Good. I'm about to have dinner."

"You're not seeing Edward tonight?"

I looked at him and rolled my eyes in apology. "Maybe later."

"Your dad and I are having some old friends to dinner this weekend, but we'd like Edward to come next weekend. We're eager to meet him." Renee was definitely eager. She asked about Edward all the time, wondered aloud about his family and his hobbies. Charlie… not so much. The only reason he had any interest in inviting Edward to the house was so he could bully him into treating me right.

"I'll ask him. I've got to go though. I've got to get some studying done."

He was looking at me expectantly when I hung up, probably wondering what _I'll ask him_ meant. "My parents want to meet you," I told him. "They want you to come for dinner next weekend."  
"Okay."

"You don't have to."

"I know. I want to."

I smiled at his effort to be courteous. I'm sure meeting Charlie and Renee Swan fell very low on the list of things he wanted to do.

There was a weird energy in the kitchen while we ate, the air heavy with uncertainty. I had no idea what to say to make things right between us again.

He was halfway through his fried rice when he'd apparently had enough. He dropped his fork with a clatter and cleared his throat. "Why didn't you tell me before today?"

"It's complicated."

He huffed petulantly; I'd never seen him irritated. "You don't trust me?"

His question gave me a sick feeling deep in my stomach. He was so far off the mark. I trusted him implicitly, with everything in me. The fact that I'd made him think otherwise was unforgiveable.

"That's not it," I said quietly. "I should have told you. I _wanted_ to tell you. More than once I was going to, but I was embarrassed."

"Why, Bella?"

Anything less than the whole truth cheapened my feelings for him—cheapened _us_. "What happened with Riley makes me feel pathetic and sad. I don't want you to see me that way. I'm not that girl anymore."

He stared at me, his eyes wide, like my honesty surprise him.

"More than anything, I want to forget him. I keep hoping he'll quit calling. I've been so happy lately, all because of you. I was scared that if you knew, it would mess this up."

"Your past is a part of you," he said, his voice low and serious. "I want to know _all_ of you."

His words made my face hot. I wanted him to know all of me, every trivial story, every secret I'd ever locked away. "I won't keep anything from you again."

"No more secrets?"

"No more secrets," I promised.

Seemingly satisfied, he picked up his fork and went back eating. I watched him for a few seconds before following his lead.

"Do you think he's going to call again?"

"Probably."

"Are you going to hang up if he does?"

"I don't know. What do you think I should do?"

He seemed glad I'd asked. "Let me talk to him."

"I don't think so."

"I have some choice words—"

"No." It was the worst possible idea. Riley fed off confrontation. "That would just set him off."

"I don't want him to have the satisfaction of hearing your voice. You don't have to put up with his shit, Bella."

"I'll keep hanging up."

He frowned, accepting defeat, but something told me this wasn't the last time we'd talk about it.

I stood and gestured toward his empty plate. "Are you finished?"

"Yeah, I'll get it."

"No way. You don't let me do dishes at your house."

He didn't argue. Instead, he ate chocolate chip cookies, watching as I rinsed and lined our dishes in the dishwasher. When I finished, I walked around the island to stand across from him.

He gazed at me, his arms crossed casually over his red and white baseball t-shirt, his loose-fitting jeans faded in all the right places. "Have you always been so stubborn?"

I'd never once been called stubborn. If anything, I'd always been too eager to please. "No. It's something I've been learning recently. I think of it as sticking up for myself."

He smiled like he appreciated my answer but didn't say anything more. I wanted him to reach for me, to take me in his arms and kiss me and tell me everything was okay, but I couldn't blame him for waiting for me to make the first move.

Not able to stand the distance any longer, I whispered, "Please come over here."

He took two steps forward, erasing the distance between us, but kept his hands balled into fists at his sides.

I reached up and touched his shoulder, my fingertips barely grazing the soft cotton of his shirt. I was fascinated by the way his muscles relaxed at the contact. I watched my hand trail down his arm and back up again, then repeat the journey a second time. The sensation of my fingers traveling down his skin somehow calmed my nerves. I took his hand and tugged him forward until we were just inches apart. "I'm sorry," I whispered, tilting my head back to look at his face.

"Don't be."

"I'm glad you came over."

He took my face in his hands. "Me too."

He kissed me then. It was a struggle to keep my head together while his mouth moved insistently against mine, his hands making slow trails up and down my back. All I could think about, all I wanted was him. Needing to erase barriers, I found the hem of his shirt and let my hands sneak underneath to dance across his bare skin, skin that seemed to burn just as hot as mine.

My hands roaming under his shirt must have unleashed something within him, because suddenly he grasped my waist, lifting me so I was sitting on the countertop. I pulled away and giggled breathlessly before turning his hat backward. He grinned as I leaned in to kiss him again, my hands skimming around to his stomach where I found the waistband of his jeans. Gripping the denim, I parted my knees and tugged, settling him between my legs.

He kissed me hard and it was exactly what I needed, bringing little flutters of excitment to life in places of my body I was only just becoming truly aware of. When I felt his hands ease under my shirt, I didn't stop him—I didn't want to. With Edward it was natural. There was no awkward groping, no shyness, no second-guessing. It all felt right. My body-the physical part that was wholly consumed with Edward-wanted more.

I was so completely absorbed in him, his hands on my skin, his mouth moving with mine, I was beginning to lose all trust in myself to make responsible decisions. If we kept up much longer, I wouldn't care how far things went.

I pulled away reluctantly, resting my forehead against his, both of us panting. "We should probably stop."

He pulled his hands from under my shirt and used them to support himself against the countertop, his breath still shallow. "Yeah, probably."

I was sort of amazed at the effect I'd had on him, and frankly, I was floored that he'd just _stopped_ when I'd asked him to. No whining, no bartering, no pressure, no anger. Was this what a real relationship was like? Forgiveness and boundaries and mutual respect? If I'd known… if I'd held Riley to those standards, would he have pushed me the way he did?

Did it even matter now that I had Edward, flushed and gorgeous and pressed up against me?

I needed a diversion. "Do you want me to show you around the house?"

He looked like he could use a cold shower, but he nodded and took my hand anyway.

I hopped off the counter and pointed toward the front door. "My dad's office and the dining room are out there, and the front stairs, obviously."

"The _front_ stairs? What house needs more than one set of stairs?"

I nudged him playfully. "This house. We only use the back stairs, those are over there," I said, gesturing past the kitchen. I led him to the family room, furnished with a large, overstuffed sectional couch and a television mounted above the fireplace. "This is where I hang out, here or in my room."

"Is your room a stop on this tour?"

I looked up at him. _Now_ insecurity was settling in. "Do you want to see it?"

"Uh, yeah. You've seen my room."

I laughed. "What a treat that was! It's almost as messy as your Volvo." He poked me in the side and I laughed, smacking his hand away. "Come on. I'll show you upstairs, too."

We headed up the stairs to the circular landing. "Which one is yours?" he asked. "I can't wait to see if it's any neater than mine."

It definitely was, but rubbing it in felt wrong. I led him to my door, pushed it open and flipped the light switch.

There was an audible gasp as he took in my easel and sewing machine, the precisely made bed, the framed photography that decorated the walls. "Holy shit," he murmered slowly.

"It's cute, right?" I asked from the doorway, crazy with wonder at what he was thinking.

He crossed the room and sat down on my bed, wrinkling the duvet. "Do you actually sleep in this bed?"

"Yes," I answered laughing.

"Please tell me you cleaned up because you knew I was coming over. It can't be like this all the time."

"I didn't clean up."

"You make your bed every day?"

I was still laughing. "Yes. That's the first thing I do when I wake up."

He stopped looking around and met my eyes. "Why are you with me?"

"Opposites attract, right?" I said, sitting down next to him on the bed.

"Maybe. You could definitely do better, though. You're kind of perfect."

I let that go. Arguing would lead to him trying to convince me, and that wasn't going to happen. I was so far from perfect it was laughable, but I wanted to be. Edward deserved perfect. I elbowed him in the ribs and he fell back on to the bed, a soft _whoosh_ of air leaving the downy comforter under his weight. I followed him, turning on my side so I could see him.

"I'm glad you told me everything," he said quietly.

"Me too." I inched closer, resting my head against his chest. "I can hear your heart. It's beating so fast."

"It usually does when I'm with you."

I smiled, wondering how he always knew just the right things to say.

His eyes wandered around my room while he idly twirled a lock of my hair around his fingers. "Did you pick the pink paint for the walls?"

"Yes. My room in Chicago was yellow, but I wanted a change when we moved here. My dad painted it for me." I paused, remembering my dad in his work slacks, spattered with bubblegum pink paint. "Even though I got why we moved, I was still upset about leaving my friends. My dad was willing to do anything to cheer me up during those first couple weeks here. He's not really the home-improvement type, so it was a stretch for him to be up here rolling pink paint on my walls."

"I bet your father hates me."

"Oh, Edward. He doesn't know you."

"Yeah, but considering what happened to you, I doubt he'd be okay with any guy you were seeing. I'm surprised he lets you go out with me at all."

"We've had a few arguments about it. He thinks we're moving too fast, that we're spending too much time together."

"And?"

"And I've told him that he should get used to it."

"Oh yeah... he definitely hates me," Edward concluded with a smirk. "How pissed would he be if he found out I was here right now?"

I propped my head up on my elbow. "Honestly… he'd be furious. Don't worry, though, I won't tell him."

He wrapped me in his arms and pulled me closer. "What am I in for when I come over next weekend?"

I cringed inwardly, wondering how much warning I should give him. "I don't know. My mom wants to meet you. She's been supportive and she's been pushing my dad to be supportive. He'll probably be hard on you though. Hopefully it won't be too awful."

He smiled, his fingers drifting through my hair. "You put up with my friends. This is the least I can do."

For the first time in a long while, I was content. The stress of Riley's phone calls, worry about Edward finding out about my past, Charlie's skepticism—it had been draining. Now, all the different parts of my life were coming together. Finally, I could breathe.

I scooted up the bed and laid a kiss on Edward, needing him to know my happiness all stemmed back to him. His hold on me tightened and his fingers knotted in my hair. I felt myself melting into him, wondering how he'd gotten so good at this.

I pulled away, suddenly very curious. "Tell me about your first kiss."

He grimaced. "You don't want to know."

I definitely did. "Come on, I'll tell you about mine."

"Uh, I don't want to know about yours. I'm content to believe you've only ever kissed me." He wasn't far off—just him and Riley. I wasn't sure Riley even counted anymore.

"Please tell me?" I bit my lip and looked at him hopefully.

He frowned, onto my game. "Fine. I was eleven. It was awkward."

"Was she your girlfriend?"

"No, it was Alice. She kissed Emmett and Jasper that same day. It was one of those stupid things kids do to get a dreaded first time experience out of the way."

My eyes went big at the scandal of it all. "Poor Alice… she probably hated being the only girl of the group that day."

"Poor Jasper," he countered. "He has to live every day knowing the love of his life once kissed his two best friends."

I laughed. "Did you ever kiss her again?"

"Hell, no! I told you, it was awkward."

I curled into him, content to listen to his beating heart until another topic of conversation wormed its way into my head, and not for the first time. But... was I ready to ask him something so personal? Yes. _No more secrets_, we'd agreed just a little while before. I wanted to know all of him too. "I have another question," I announced after another few minutes of gathering my courage. "But, um, I'm not sure how to ask, really."

"You can ask me anything, Bella."

I inhaled and briefly closed my eyes, hating to pry, but it was something I'd been wondering about a lot over the past several days. I had to know. "Okay, uh… how many girls have you…?"

"What?"

I frowned. He was playing dumb. "You're going to make me say it?"

"Absolutely," he said with a quiet chuckle.

"Fine. How many girls have you slept with?" I asked, my quick words flowing together.

He didn't hesitate. "None."

"None?" I repeated, shocked. He was so good looking, so well liked at school. How was it possible?

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes!" I said, laughing with unexpected relief.

"Why? You know you're the first person I've dated."

True, but… seriously? "That doesn't necessarily mean anything," I told him.

"Maybe not to some people."

"You do know most of the girls at school would have been ready and willing, right?"

He tickled my waist, making me laugh and squirm in his arms. "I doubt that's true, but even so, that's not how I was raised."

"Wow," I said again.

"You're making me wonder what my reputation is at school. Are you really surprised?"

"Kind of. It seemed naïve to assume you hadn't been with _anyone_. I mean, come on!"

"What about you? I find it hard to believe you're much more experienced than me."

I was quiet for a pause, trying to figure out if news of my virginity would a positive or a negative in his eyes. "No, I'm the same as you," I finally said. "But…"

I felt his arms go rigid around me. "But what?"

"Well, that was one of the big problems, with Riley. He wanted to. I didn't."

"And?"

"And nothing." My cheeks were becoming very hot. Why in the world had I tacked a _but_ onto the end of that sentence? "We didn't, Edward. Not even close, but there were a lot of fights about it. A lot of pressure. It was almost like our relationship was just a means to an end for him."

"Jesus. I can't believe he put you through that." He held me closer, pressing his lips to my hair, running his hand up and down my arm. "I'm so glad you're away from him," he whispered. "I'm so glad you're here with me now."

I nodded, afraid if I attempted words I'd cry. He was so wonderful, so honest and sweet and amazing. I was falling for him, hard and fast.

I needed a mood lightener, quick, or I'd be a blubbering mess of tears on his chest. I wrapped my arms around him, nestling my face into his neck. "So, are you planning to wait until you're married?" I asked, my tone a little playful.

"Uh, not necessarily." I drew back and looked at him, waiting for him to go on. "I guess I've just been waiting for the right person," he said quietly.

He tugged me back toward him, burying his face in my hair. I let him get away with it for a few minutes, stroking his neck, wondering if he wasn't open to this type of inquiry. "Does it bother you that I'm asking you about this?"

He laughed into my hair. "Surprisingly, no, but I've never talked to anyone else about it."

"Me neither."

"Really? What about Rosalie?"

"No way! She talks, but I don't. Some things are better left unshared."

"And yet you're sharing with me."

"It's different with you."

"That's nice to hear."

He was quiet for a long while, his breathing deep and even, his hold on me secure, until he insisted I show him some of my paintings. I hesitated at first, but eventually pointed to the canvas that hung over my bed—three big dahlias in varying shades of pink and red, highlighted with wide brush strokes.

"You painted that?" he asked, clearly impressed.

"In January, right after we moved here."

"Why dahlias?"

"I was missing my friends in Chicago and I'd just started school at Ridgeville. I once read somewhere that dahlias can symbolize change and instability—that seemed fitting at the time."

He glanced at my vanity mirror where the flowers he'd sent where hanging upside down by a ribbon, in the process of drying. "My mom told me dahlias stand for dignity and elegance."

I nodded. "That's right too. They have lots of meanings. That's why they're my favorite."

He smiled. "Where are the rest of your paintings?"

"I give most of them away. Once I finish something, I'm usually tired of looking at it. My parents have irises in their bedroom and peonies in the dining room. Emily has daisies hanging in her apartment in Chicago. I gave Rosalie a small canvas with daffodils last month."

"When will I get one?"

I giggled at the thought, sure he was kidding. "I don't think flowers go with all of the pennants and game balls and trophies you've got in your bedroom."

"I don't care."

I glanced up to assess his seriousness. "Okay… I'll do one for you this summer," I said when I saw he was unwavering.

"What kind of flowers will I get?"

Good question. There were so many that would have fit. "Hmm… forget-me-nots, I think. You can hang it in your dorm room next year so you won't forget about me."

He kissed the top of my head and in the most solemn voice I'd ever heard out of him said, "I don't think you need to worry about that, Bella."

**Inquiring minds want to know... Who was your first kiss? **

**Also, I read two amazing novels this week (yes, real books with covers and pages and bindings!) and I wanted to rec them here. The first was Mockingjay, the final book of The Hunger Games Trilogy. It was amazing, amazing, amazing. If you aren't reading Suzanne Collins, you should be. And the second was The Forest of Hands and Teeth by Carrie Ryan, which was lovely and lyrical and romantic and about... zombies. Yep, really. Check them out!**

**As always, thanks for reading and reviewing. :)**


	6. Six

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

**Please be advised that this is a story about rape, it's effects on a high school relationship, and the beginning steps of recovery for both the victim and her significant other. I have already written this story in its entirety (I will update weekly) and can assure you that there are no scenes of gratuitous violence or graphic sexual assault. The topic of sexual assault is handled realistically, but with upmost sensitivity. Still, if rape is a topic that is especially upsetting to you, you might want to read another story. **

**All Twilight references belong to Stephenie Meyer. Original material belongs to this author.**

CHAPTER SIX

Edward

A week and a half after finding about Bella's history with Riley, I parked in the Swans' driveway, freshly showered and dressed reasonably well. Thanks to Bella's past, I had serious anxiety about meeting her parents. I had a lot to prove. If things didn't go well, life was going to get complicated quick. Waiting for her to answer the door, I silently cursed Riley to the darkest pits of Hell.

Bella swung the door open, wearing a yellow tank top and white pants that looked impossibly soft. "Edward! You didn't have to… thank you!"

"I wanted to, and you're welcome," I said, handing her the bouquet of golden sunflowers.

She reached up and placed her hand on my neck, pulling me forward so she could kiss me. "You spoil me," she said, but she was grinning without shame. She pointed at the second bouquet—yellow tulips, my mother's suggestion. "For my mom?"

"Yeah. I need all the help I can get."

"You're going to do fine."

As we walked together toward the kitchen, Bella reached over and rubbed my arm with her free hand, a gesture I'm sure she meant to be reassuring but only made me worry about what her father would think if he caught us touching. We passed under the archway where Charlie and Renee were waiting. He was sitting on a barstool along the island counter top, half way through a bottle of beer. She was standing at the sink washing vegetables. I made a point to glance around the kitchen as if I'd never been there before.

"Mom, Dad, this is Edward." I could hear the nerves in Bella's voice as she spoke. She clearly realized how huge this meeting was, but there was a note of happiness there too, like she was relieved to have me in the same room as her parents.

Her mother approached first, smiling in a way that was immediately familiar. As she held out her hand to shake mine, I noticed that her eyes were the exact same shade of brown as her daughter's. "Welcome, Edward," she said, smiling again in that way that was so Bella.

"Thank you for having me, Mrs. Swan," I said holding out the tulips.

"Call me Renee, honey. These are beautiful," she said taking the flowers. "Bella told us your mother's a florist? Aren't you lucky? Now, where is her shop located?"

Before I had a chance to answer Renee's string of questions, her husband stood up and moved toward me with a menacing glare. He was a monster of a man; a middle-aged linebacker. He stood at my height, but with much broader shoulders. His features were dark, but not quite as dark as the look he shot me before sticking his hand out. "Mr. Swan," he said, and had I not been so unsettled I would have snickered at his suitably gruff voice and his not-so-subtle hint that I wasn't welcome to call him Charlie.

"It's nice to meet you, sir."

He returned to his stool and drained his beer. I wondered if he kept weapons in the house as I inched a step away from his daughter.

"Have a seat, Edward," Bella said pointing to a stool next to the one her father was occupying. "Can I get you a Coke or something?"

"Yeah, thanks," I said moving toward the island where Mr. Swan was seated.

"Don't get too comfortable," he snapped as I pulled out a stool. "I need to go start the grill. You can come out back with me."

"Uh, okay." I slid the stool back in. Bella turned her back on the awkwardness and searched the fridge.

"Here," she said, passing me a Coke. "More beer, dad?"

"Yes, please."

She shot me a mischievous look before she pulled another bottle of beer from the fridge. Mr. Swan picked it up and popped the top. "Let's go," he grumbled.

Bella looked at me apologetically. "I'm going to put these flowers in water and help my mom finish up with the vegetables. I'll be out in a few minutes." As soon as Mr. Swan's back was turned I glared at Bella, annoyed that she was abandoning me with her retired police officer father. She gave a helpless little giggle and waved me toward the door.

I followed Mr. Swan out the backdoor to the vast flagstone patio that housed a built-in grill. Despite my mild distaste for the fancy inside of their house, the Swans' backyard was pretty amazing. The patio led to a pool with organically curved borders. It looked almost natural, a big pond with turquoise water. There were trees and shrubs everywhere—most in full bloom and all perfectly pruned. Rose bushes bordered the fences while wisteria climbed up trellises that lined the patio. My mom would have been in awe.

I watched as Mr. Swan stooped to open a cabinet below the grill, then turned a knob on the propane tank. He straightened his imposing body to turn on the grill itself and when he was done fiddling with the temperature settings, lowered the lid to let it heat up. I surveyed the ease with which he did all of this with interest; my mom and I grilled out all the time but we had one of those old-fashioned black dome barbeques that used charcoal. Between the coals, the lighter fluid and the matches, the thing was a bitch to fire up.

Mr. Swan picked his beer up and walked toward the patio furniture—a big wrought iron table and padded chairs with an umbrella opened above for shade—and gestured for me to sit down. I did; a respectful two chairs away from the seat he chose. I took a long drink of my Coke because my mouth suddenly felt very dry.

It would have been a blatant lie to claim he didn't intimidate me. It was enough that he was my girlfriend's father, but on top of that, I had Riley's dysfunctional relationship ghosts to compete with and, let's face it, Mr. Swan was huge. He'd barely said two words since my arrival, but it seemed now that we were alone and there were no witnesses, he was ready to have a serious chat.

"So… Edward," he began, choking out my name as if it left a sour taste on his tongue.

"Bella tells me you play baseball."

"Yes, since I was young."

"Who do you follow in the Majors?"

"I watch the Reds, because they're the closest we have to local. I watch the Mariners when they're aired here. They were my dad's team. He grew up outside Seattle. And I watch the Yankees, because they're pretty much a dynasty. They have so much history I can't help but like them."

"No Midwest teams?" he asked with a hint of a smile, the first I'd seen. I wondered what all the sports talk was about. Was he was genuinely interested or was he was trying to warm me up, get me comfortable before he started to grill me?

"I'll watch whoever happens to be on TV, but no, I don't follow any of them specifically. Bella told me you're a Cubs fan, though."

He nodded. "I had to sell my season tickets when we moved." She'd failed to mention season tickets… must've been nice.

"And you'll be playing in college?"

"Yes, sir."

"You must get at least decent grades then," he surmised, sounding surprised.

I tried not to let his comment bother me. I suppose if I had a daughter, I'd assume her boyfriend was a moron and then wait to see if he could prove otherwise. "Yeah."

"Do you drink?"

"No, never." He narrowed his eyes, obviously unconvinced. "My father was killed in an accident that involved alcohol. My mother prefers I stay away from it."

For a second, I thought we were done. "Do you use drugs?"

"No, definitely not."

And then he got right down to it. "How much did Bella tell you about Riley Biers?"

"Uh, everything."

He took what could only be described as a long pull of beer. "So you can understand, in light of everything she's been through, why I'd be hesitant to trust _you_ with my daughter?"

"I'm nothing like Riley."

"I see." It was obvious he didn't. "So you can assure me you'll never pressure Bella, manipulate her or lay a hand on her?"

"I'd never hurt her, Mr. Swan. I—" _love her_, I nearly blurted out, but the words stuck in my throat, "—care about her."

He studied me intently for a long minute, evidently trying to see through any bullshit I might be tossing his way. I waited for him to threaten me, something along the lines of _If you ever hurt my daughter_, but it never came. Instead he knocked back the rest of his beer.

Somehow I'd yet to make an ass of myself and then, before I considered the repercussions of the words, they came flying out of my mouth. "While we're on the topic of Riley, I think you should know he's been in contact with Bella."

Mr. Swan glared at me, hate practically seeping from his pores, an incensed pit-bull. I immediately regretted opening my mouth. I thought he was going to get up and storm into the house to find Bella until he grumbled, "What do you mean, _in_ _contact_?"

"He's been calling her, trying to talk her." _Jesus, Bella is going to kill me_.

Mr. Swan's face had become an alarming shade of red. "Since when?"

"A couple weeks ago. He calls every day or two, more or less."

"How long have you known about this?"

"Awhile. I've tried to get Bella to talk to you, but… she's reluctant." _Shut up, Edward! _I felt like a jerk calling Bella out, but it seemed necessary to explain to her dad—who was clearly pissed—why he'd been left in the dark all these days. "She told me she wants to forget about Riley. She's been ignoring his calls, deleting his texts, hanging up when she sees his number."

His expression was slightly calmer. Apparently the deep breaths were starting to work. Then he asked the question I'd been asking myself for the last few minutes. "Why are _you_ telling me?"

"I don't know. I—I guess because Bella wouldn't. I thought you should know. I thought you could have her number changed."

He folded his arms across his expansive chest. "Did you tell her you were going to mention this to me?"

"No. She's probably going to be upset, but I'd never forgive myself if something happened and I hadn't done everything I could to keep her safe."

He looked at me for a long time, twisting his empty beer bottle on the table top, the glass making an offensive sound as it moved against the wrought iron. "I could have killed that bastard kid last winter," he said so softly I wasn't sure if I'd been meant to hear him.

"I understand," I mumbled.

His anger seemed to have faded. Now he looked worn and worried. I felt a pang of sympathy for him as I realized, fundamentally, we both had the same objective where Bella was concerned.

"I hope you won't stop her from going out, Mr. Swan. I can assure you, when she's with me, she'll be safe."

He drummed his fingers on the table top, considering. "I'll have her phone number changed tomorrow," he said, leaving it at that. I hoped like hell my big mouth hadn't just put my girlfriend on house arrest.

We sat in silence for a few minutes while I sucked down the rest of my Coke. Eventually Bella and her mother came out carrying plates of marinated chicken and vegetables. Mr. Swan got up to put them on the grill while Renee went back inside. Bella sat down next to me and took my hand.  
"How's it going?" she asked in a low voice.

I squeezed her hand and nodded because her father was still in earshot. He finished at the grill and ambled back toward us.

"The food should be ready soon," he announced, resuming his position at the head of the table.

"Good, I'm starving," Bella said, happily oblivious. "Did Edward tell you about his baseball scholarship, Dad?"

"Edward shared a lot of interesting things with me."

She looked at me, confused, then back to her father. "What?"

"I wish _you_ would have told me about Riley."

Her face fell. She dropped my hand and glared at me. "Thanks a lot. Couldn't you have at least waited until after dinner?"

Her father stepped in, my unlikely defender. "Don't give him a hard time. I'm glad one of you had the good sense to fill me in. Edward seems to have his priorities in order and I appreciate that."

Bella glanced at me, visibly pissed. I offered her a tight smile, praying she'd forgive me, but she crossed her arms over chest, sulking like I hadn't seen since the night we met in the parking lot. "Don't look so satisfied," she muttered.

Mr. Swan cleared his throat, aware of the tension. He got up and headed for the back door. "I'm going to go inside to help your mother. You're getting a new phone number tomorrow," he told Bella before the screen door swung shut behind him.

"You can't honestly be mad," I said the second we were alone. "Your father isn't even upset."

"I told you I didn't want my parents to know. You went behind my back."

"I hadn't planned to. It just came out, but I'm not going to apologize. I'm glad he knows."

"Well good for you. You don't have to put up with his rules."

"Yeah, I do. Whatever you put up with, I put up with. He's not mad. He's worried, just like me, but he can do something about it."

"We'll see," she snapped, apparently focused only on my slip of loyalty.  
I sighed a deep sigh, frustrated that she couldn't see I had her best interests in mind.

"I just wish you would have talked to me first," she said quietly.

"Why? So you could've talked me out of it?"  
The wheels were turning in her head. She was locked in some kind of grave internal debate as she traced the wrought iron pattern of the table top. "No."

"I told you, I hadn't planned to tell him." Unwilling to argue, I leaned in close, grasping her hand in mine. "I can't stand to have you mad at me, especially not tonight. You're going to get a new phone number and this'll be finished." I kissed her cheek, lingering. "I'm sorry, baby, please don't be upset," I whispered.

I'd never called her anything but Bella, and it was almost physical, the way she melted at my words. She gave me a sidelong glance. "You never play fair," she said with a hint of dissent.

I shrugged, arrogant. "You're moods are easy to turn."

At last she smiled. "At least my dad seems to like you."

I snorted. "I don't know about that. He asked me if I use drugs."

She giggled. "He used to ask Emily's boyfriends that too, I'm surprised he didn't bring up tattoos and criminal records." She paused for a few seconds, lacing her fingers through mine. "He likes you, Edward, I can tell. There's no pretension with my father."

"I hope that means he'll still let you see me."

"Me too." She looked off toward the pool. "If he were really mad, he would have sent you home. You're still here. That's a good sign."

"So, go ahead and admit it—I was right about telling him."

"Don't push it, but I may have underestimated him on this one. I _am_ sort of glad you told him."

I laughed. "Yeah, I bet you are."

"You have such _good sense_." Her lips touched mine in a whisper of a kiss before she sat back into her chair again. "You were right all along. Thank you for telling him."

"You're welcome." I pushed her hair back behind her shoulders, gazing into her bottomless brown eyes. My fingers drifted under her hair to her neck, stroking her soft skin. She smiled, unreserved and adoring, making me fully conscious of how deep my feelings for her ran.

Her parents came out then, an annoying interruption. I slid my hand from Bella's neck as they walked toward us. "Why don't you two go in and refresh your drinks. Dinner will be ready soon," Renee said.

I followed Bella back into the house and watched while she poured two Cokes over ice. She left the glasses to sweat on the counter top and approached me with a sly look. I held out my hands, but she ignored them. Instead, she leaned into me and wrapped her arms around my neck, lifting up onto her toes to kiss me. She smiled against my lips when I returned her kiss with less than my normal enthusiasm. "Don't worry, they won't come in."

"You don't know that."

"I do. They're getting dinner ready."

"If your father walks through that door and catches me making out with you like some horny jackass, I'm going to lose all the headway I made with him tonight." I reached up to retrieve her hands and held them in mine. "There's not a chance in hell I'm going to take that risk."

"Ed-ward…" she said, drawing the syllables in an uncharacteristic whine.

"Why don't you come home with me after we eat? My mom will be asleep by then."

She looked at the ceiling in thought. "Maybe… I mean, I'd love to, but I don't know if my dad will let me, considering."

"We'll see what he says, okay?" I smirked and nudged her away. "In the meantime, keep your hands to yourself."

Bella and I played Scrabble with her parents after dinner. Watching her and her father battle it out on the Scrabble board, their eyes bright with competition, I realized how alike they were. When one would make a particularly good play, I'd catch a flash of pride dart across the other's face before concentration took over again.

Mr. Swan ended up beating Bella, barely. His winner's high—not to mention the fountain of beer he'd sucked down—sidetracked him enough that he didn't even bother to object when Bella announced her plan to follow me home for a visit. "Don't stay out too late," he said before shaking my hand and retiring to his office.

It was just after nine when we got back to my house. My mother's car wasn't in the driveway, unusual but not bothersome. We went inside where I found a note from her on the kitchen table, explaining that she'd to go to dinner and a movie in Nashville. _I'll be home late tonight. See you at breakfast… you can fill me in on how your dinner with Bella's parents went, _she'd written.

I passed her note to Bella and went to let Maggie in from the backyard. I scooped some dog food into her bowl and tossed her a Milk Bone before heading back to the kitchen.

Bella was leaning against the stove, arms folded loosely over her yellow tank top, dark hair framing her face. Her eyes were a dangerous mix of innocence seduction. "Home alone, are we?"

"Yeah, I hope you don't mind."

"No, not at all."

I crossed the kitchen, my shoes treading softly against the hardwood. Taking both of her hands in mine, I walked backward toward the staircase until the backs of my feet hit the bottom stair. I paused, because her answer to my next question seemed very, very important. "Will you come upstairs with me?"

She glanced upward as if she was considering. After a few seconds she focused on me, demure through dark lashes, but there was a delicious glimmer in her eyes as she nodded.

I turned then and led the way up the staircase, keeping one of her hands in mine and walking way quicker than necessary. Once we hit the landing, I turned again, took her face in my hands and kissed her as I backed down the hall, all but dragging her with me. I nudged the door open with my foot and walked backward into the room, pulling away with a soft groan to close the door and flick on the small lamp on my desk.

She stepped around the clutter and sat down on the edge of my bed, distinct lavender hovering in the air. She shook her head, apparently still not over the mess that was my room. "We're going to have to do something about this soon," she said, glancing around at the books and clothes and sports equipment that concealed the floor.

I leaned up against my desk. "I know… it's embarrassing now that I know what a neat-freak you are. It's so far gone I don't even know where to start."

"I could help you," she offered.

"Hell, no, I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy."

"But I'd like to."

I didn't doubt it. For reasons I couldn't begin to understand, organizing and cleaning were cathartic to her. Plus, she had some misguided idea that she owed me favors. "Nah," I said. "I'll get to it when baseball's over."

She gave up and scooted back, appearing tiny on my bed, like she was going to get swallowed up by the quilt and pillows. She glanced at me, so pretty that for a second I became tense, which I knew was ridiculous. I watched as she gathered her hair in both hands and twisted it behind her head, dropping it all behind her shoulders. "Are you going to sit?" she asked, adorable and innocent and incredibly irresistible.

I sat next to her and kissed her, my chest tightening with emotions I usually tried to keep reigned in. Overwhelmed, I pulled back to look at her. My hands went to her face, my fingertips caressing her cheeks and then her neck. I was too chicken-shit to tell her how I really felt, that I was falling in love with her, so I settled for the next best thing. "You're everything to me, Bella," I said, my mouth inches from hers. "You know that, right? It's hard to remember what my life was like before you. I don't even want to."

She wound her arms around me, burying her face against my skin. I felt her lips press against my neck and begin a slow trail toward my ear. My fingers knotted in her hair, urging her on until I felt her warm breath sweep across my skin. "It's the same for me," she whispered. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Will you lay down with me?"

Her slight smile grew as she nodded and curled up in the crook of my arm on my bed. I kissed her, long and slow, reveling in the moment but at the same time craving more.

She snuck her warm hands under my shirt, running them over my skin the way she'd been doing quite often over the last few days. This time though, she tugged my shirt up toward my shoulders, breaking away to whisper, "Take this off."

I knelt over her and yanked my shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor. Things felt unbalanced as I gazed down at her nestled against my pillows, still fully clothed. She smiled innocently, blinking her wide eyes for full effect. I quirked an eyebrow and flashed a cocky grin. Her cheeks flushed as she realized what I wanted, but she let me take her hands and pull her up.

"You okay?" I asked, touching her pink cheek. "We don't have to go any further." She'd held onto her modesty for so long, earned ridicule and taunts and backhands from her asshole ex-boyfriend for keeping her shirt _on_. I wasn't about to pressure her into taking it off.

She nodded then, and to my surprise grasped the hem of her tank top and pulled it over her head, her hair cascading around bare shoulders as her shirt joined mine on the floor. She was so gorgeous she very nearly took my breath away... taut, tanned skin stretched over her belly, a sheer, pale pink bra that left very little to the imagination, those soft linen pants riding so low on her hips... and a blush spreading from her cheeks to her neck to her chest. God, the last thing I wanted was her to be self-concious with me.

My arms went around her, drawing her into a protective hug. She nuzzled her nose into my neck, her lips searing in to my skin. We fell back onto the pillows again and I lost myself in her kisses, roaming hads exploring places hot and dark and once private.

I wanted her. I wanted every part of her.

Eventually the clock downstairs chimed, a harsh reminder that we weren't going to be alone in the house for much longer. I shifted onto my back and cleared my head with a few deep breaths.

Bella curled up next to me. "You didn't have to stop," she whispered.

I twisted a lock of her hair around my fingers, already regretting the words that sat on the tip of my tongue. "Yeah, I did. A few hours ago I promised your father I wouldn't take advantage of you—"

"Edward! You're hardly taking advantage of me!"

"_And_," I continued, ignoring her interruption, "my mom's going to be home soon. You don't want her wandering in here while you're half-naked in bed with me, do you?"

She sat up, reaching over me to grab her tank top from the floor before nestling back into the crook of my arm. We lay quietly for a long time, and I thought about what she'd told me about Riley pushing her into going further than she was comfortable with. I wasn't about to be that guy. "Bella?"

"Yes?" She sounded sleepy.

"I don't want you to feel like there's pressure, you know? We don't have to rush anything."

She snuggled closer, laying her head on my chest. "I know, but… Edward? Do you think I'll be your first?"

I didn't miss a beat, didn't even consider the implications, before answering, "Bella, I think you'll be my only."

She raised her head to look at me, her eyes wide with surprise. Then she smiled, a content, serene smile that spread slowly across her face and made me grin too.

###

The next morning my mom was seated in her usual kitchen chair, coffee mug in hand, newspaper spread open on the table. "Morning," she said, looking up as I sat down across from her. "How'd things go last night?"

"Good," I said, pouring coffee into a mug. "Bella's dad's a hard-ass, but I was expecting that." I took a blueberry muffin from the plate in the center of the table, thinking of the note my mom had left the night before. "Who were you out with last night?"

She fluffed her caramel-colored hair, suddenly finding her coffee mug very interesting. "Oh, a friend. We saw a movie in the city."

Apparently a friend who didn't have a name. I wondered if it was possible that my mother was dating and I didn't know about it. "Yeah?" I asked casually. "Since we're on the topic, ever since Bella and I started going out, I've felt kind of bad not being home as often. You're not lonely are you?"

"No, I've got work and Maggie and my sewing. Believe it or not, I stay pretty busy."

"I know, but if you ever wanted to go out and have some fun… well, you should."

"Alice's mom and I went for dinner last week, remember?"

"I wasn't talking about Alice's mom, Esme," I said with a smile meant to tease her.

She squinted, trying to make sense of my obscurity. Her eyes went wide as she understood what I was trying to say. "Are you suggesting I date?" she asked, incredulous. As many times as she'd wondered aloud about my personal life, I'd never once commented on hers.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Did you have someone specific in mind?"

"No!" Did she really think I had some strange man in mind that I wanted to pimp her out to? The thought was horrifying.

"I was just wondering. You've never brought this up before."

"I just wanted you to know, if you ever met someone… well, I'd be okay with it."

"I appreciate that, sweetie." She stood up and kissed my cheek before going to the coffee pot for a refill. When she returned to the table she was wearing an amused smile.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing, I don't want to pry." She turned back to her paper, suddenly taking great interest in the front page.

"That wasn't a _nothing_ look. And since when do you have any problem prying?"

She glanced up at me. "I'm just glad, that's all. I see how happy Bella makes you."

"Oh… thanks, I guess."

She was smiling again, that annoying I-know-something-you-don't smile. "Love's grand, isn't it?"

I nearly choked on my muffin. Was I really that transparent? I shrugged, intent on ignoring her mention of love.

"What are you up to today?" she asked.

"I'm taking Bella to the lake with Alice and Jasper."

"It's supposed to be a hot one," she said, stirring her coffee. "Have fun."

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. :)**


	7. Seven

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

**Welcome to the new readers who've recently started following this story. :) I'd love to hear your thoughts about it, so if you're inclined, please click REVIEW after reading and let me know what you think.**

I'm posting TWO chapters today! They're both fairly short and part of the same scene, though partly told from Bella's POV and partly told from Edward's POV. 

**Also, Please be advised that this is a story about rape, it's effects on a high school relationship, and the beginning steps of recovery for both the victim and her significant other. I have already written this story in its entirety (I will update weekly) and can assure you that there are no scenes of gratuitous violence or graphic sexual assault. The topic of sexual assault is handled realistically, but with upmost sensitivity. Still, if rape is a topic that is especially upsetting to you, you might want to read another story. **

**All Twilight references belong to Stephenie Meyer. Original material belongs to this author.**

CHAPTER SEVEN

Bella

I'd been waiting at the front door for almost fifteen minutes by the time Edward pulled into the driveway. The fact that he was late didn't even register. I was too excited about our day at the lake. After calling a quick good-bye to my parents, I went bouncing down the driveway to the Volvo.

Edward reached over the consol to open the door for me and took my bag so I could climb in. His eyes quickly found the red and white strings of my bikini that peeked out from underneath my gauzy tank top, tied around my neck in a bow.

"Hi," I said with a big smile. I leaned toward him, placing my hands on his cheeks and kissed him with a loud _smack _of my lips.

"Hi," he returned, laughing at my enthusiasm. "You're in a good mood."

"I get to spend the whole day out in the sun with you. What could be better?"

He grinned back. "Nothing," he said, shifting into gear.

The Volvo's windows were down and warm wind blew around us as he drove, making my still-damp hair whip continuously into my face and sometimes his. After ten minutes of trying to tame it, I tugged my bag onto my lap and rooted around inside in search of something to tie it back with. I managed to unearth my phone, my wallet, a tube of lip gloss and a couple pens, dumping everything in the cup holders between us, but came up empty handed.

Somehow knowing what I needed, Edward reached into the black hole that was his backseat and rummaged around on the floor until he found an old baseball hat. After giving him a grateful smile, I put it on, tucking my hair up underneath. He glanced over to evaluate my new look and gave me a wink of approval before reaching for my hand.

Jasper and Alice were waiting for us, lounging on a big blanket spread on the grass right above the water. We greeted them, dropped our stuff on the grass, and plopped down on the blanket. I leaned up against Edward's side; his arm wrapped immediately around my waist and his hand found mine on the other side. I caught Alice grinning at him in an _I told you so _way and smiled at her assumption that our happiness had anything to do with her.

"So, Bella," she began as soon as we were settled. "What's up with Rosalie and Emmett?"

I stifled a groan. Rosalie had been carrying on about Third Base Emmett since I'd introduced them at Fork's Diner a few nights before. They'd gotten along alarmingly well, especially considering Rose was focused on herself ninety-nine percent of the time and Emmett seemed to be of the mindset that high school was created just so guys like him could play the field. "I probably shouldn't say anything," I said. "Rose is my friend."

"I knew it! She likes him!" I rolled my eyes while Edward shook his head. Apparently omission was as good as admission in Alice's eyes.

"She has said that Emmett's been real sweet."

The boys snickered. "I wonder what his motives are," Edward said.

"I don't know," Alice mused, brushing her short bangs from her forehead. "He seems to like her. I mean, he did pay for her dinner at Fork's the other night. Plus, I've seen them talking at school more than once since then."

Jasper snorted. "Because he's looking to get laid."

"Well, he hasn't," I interjected, unable to let my friend's reputation get dragged through the mud. Three pairs of eyes stared back at me, full of unrestrained curiosity.

"How do you know?" Alice asked.

I shrugged. "Rose would have told me."

"Then what's going on?" Alice's eyes were shining. This conversation was double the fun for her—salacious gossip _and_ the possibility that Emmett had failed to close the deal, supposedly a rare occurrence.

"They just hang out," I said, done with being evasive. "They've kissed, but that's it. Rose told me he took her to a movie Friday night."

"Wait, what?" Edward asked, angling himself so he could see me better. "They went out? Like, on an actual date?"

"I guess. Is that bad?" I didn't know Emmett like the rest of them, but judging by the bewilderment and fascination that mingled on each of their faces, my question was completely ridiculous.

"No… it's not bad," Edward assured me.

"It's weird," Jasper said.

"Peculiar," Alice agreed taking Jasper's hand.

"Why?" I asked.

"Emmett doesn't date. At all," Alice explained. "It's a hard, fast rule."

"Ever? I thought he didn't date anyone long term. Like you," I said with a sly grin, elbowing Edward in the ribs.

He frowned. "Emmett and I are nothing alike."

Jasper snorted and muttered, "Serial dater."

Edward plucked his car keys out of the grass and threw them at him. "Go to hell. That was more your matchmaker girlfriend's doing than mine."

For a second Jasper looked like he was going to retaliate, but I happened to be sitting at the perfect angle to block Edward so he flung the keys into the grass, far from where they could be reached.

Alice patted Jasper's chest, apparently desensitized to the boys' random outbursts of violence. "I have to admit, you did fine on your own, Edward," she said smiling at me. "And you're right, Emmett _is_ different. In all the years we've known him, I can't remember him ever going on a traditional date—you know, dinner and a movie, he picks up the check. That's way too intimate for him."

"Maybe he really likes Rosalie," Edward suggested, his voice uncertain. He'd kept his mouth shut about it, but I'd gotten the impression that he didn't like Rose much. Her lack of filter and obvious self-involvement were probably the reasons, plus, she could be pretty bitchy when she wanted to be. "Or, maybe he's caught up in the chase."

"She _would_ make him work for it," I agreed. Rose was nothing if not challenging.

"I hope she does," Alice said. "It's about time Emmett met his match. He needs a tough girl to take him down a notch."

"Hey, let's drive over to The Clubhouse and get some lunch," Jasper said.

"Are you hungry?" Edward asked me. "Jasper and I can bring food back if you and Alice want to hang out here."

"Will you let me pay?" I asked, reaching for my bag.

He kicked it out of my reach with his foot before rescuing his keys from the grass. "No. What do you want to eat?"

"Surprise me," I said with an exaggerated glower.

He laughed and kissed my cheek. "Have fun."

As soon as the boys pulled away in the Volvo, Alice and I got comfortable on the beach. The midday sun dropped rays of humid heat and it wasn't long before we'd peeled of our shorts and tank tops in favor of the bathing suits underneath. Alice filled the quiet with gossip and jokes and laughter, all the while twisting my hair into tiny braids that kept it out of my face.

"He's different now," she said as I ran my fingertips along the embroidered _R_ on the front of Edward's hat, the one I'd shed so Alice could play beauty parlor.

"In a good way, I hope." I didn't want her to think I was pushing change on him, trying to alter the person he'd been throughout their long friendship.

"I think so. He's more relaxed. Happy."

"He wasn't happy before?"

"He wasn't _un_happy. More like just coasting along."

I had a hard time picturing it. Since the day we'd met, I'd viewed Edward as the ideal guy. A heap of talent on the baseball field, a face that stopped girls in their tracks, charisma that made him at once likeable—it was easy to forget that his life hadn't always been so charmed. He'd been dealt a hand that, to me, seemed nearly impossible to bounce back from, and yet, he had. "Why?" I asked Alice.

"I think it had a lot to do with his dad. He told you about what happened, right?"

"The condensed version, I think."

"It was a big deal. Stuff like that just doesn't happen around here. It was hard on Esme, obviously. She shut down. She didn't talk to my mom for almost a year. Edward was different though. He was back in school the day after the funeral, playing baseball the next weekend… it was like he just pushed it away and went on with his life."

It broke my heart, the thought of ten year old Edward struggling to cope with his father's senseless death while his mother dealt with guilt and probably depression.

"He's always been like that," Alice went on, dividing another section of my hair into threes. "Even when we were little. He never got upset about anything, there were no tantrums, no playground fights, nothing. But then, after his father died, he completely walled himself off from everybody."

"I see that sometimes," I said. "But it usually doesn't last long."

"Because of you."

"You think so?"

"Definitely. There's something about you… something that made him dial back in."

"Maybe he's just growing up. Graduation's coming soon. He'll be going away to school—"

"No. It's you, Bella. You wouldn't have recognized him a few months ago."

I stayed quiet while Alice continued to work on my hair, the sun toasting our skin. My heart was heavy with what she'd shared, with the vast sense of responsibility I felt knowing Edward's happiness might rest with me.

**Where's your favorite summer sun spot? Thanks for reading and reviewing! :)**


	8. Eight

**Two chapters today! They're fairly short. :)**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

**Please be advised that this is a story about rape, it's effects on a high school relationship, and the beginning steps of recovery for both the victim and her significant other. I have already written this story in its entirety (I will update weekly) and can assure you that there are no scenes of gratuitous violence or graphic sexual assault. The topic of sexual assault is handled realistically, but with upmost sensitivity. Still, if rape is a topic that is especially upsetting to you, you might want to read another story. **

**All Twilight references belong to Stephenie Meyer. Original material belongs to this author.**

CHAPTER EIGHT

Edward

Jasper and I drove to The Clubhouse, a drive-in a few miles up the road at the public park. The lunch crowd was already waiting. We placed our orders, then played a game of pick-up basketball with some underclassmen on the courts near the restaurant parking lot until our numbers were called.

"Shit," Jasper muttered as soon as we were back in my Volvo, "I forgot straws."

I sat while he jogged back to The Clubhouse to grab straws, scanning through radio stations until I heard a ring tone, familiar but not my own. I glanced around, confused, until I spotted Bella's phone still sitting in the cup holder. I checked the display. Area code 708—not local. Clearly Mr. Swan hadn't gotten around to changing Bella's number yet. I pondered the consequences for a split second before answering with a casual, "Hello?"

"Who's this?" His voice was smooth, cooler than I'd imagined.

"Who the fuck is this?" I asked, unable to reign in weeks of resentment.

"Where's Bella?"

"She doesn't want to talk to you. She doesn't want anything to do with you."

"We have unfinished business."

Jasper was walking across the parking lot, straws in hand. "Bullshit. Leave her alone."

Riley laughed, a dry, menacing sound that made me want to shatter the windshield with my fist. "Or what?" he asked before the line went dead.

I flung Bella's phone back in to the cup holder as Jasper climbed in. "Who was that?"

"Nobody," I snapped, anger simmering inside me.

When we returned to our spot with sandwiches and Cokes, Alice and Bella were laying on the blanket in their bathing suits. I don't know what I'd been expecting Bella to wear at the lake, but the small triangles of red and white polka dot fabric were sexier and much more insufficient than I could have imagined. Her hair was down, fanned out around her on the blanket, my hat discarded in the grass. The sight of her relaxed my tense muscles a little.

Jasper elbowed me as we approached, staring unabashedly at Bella. "Damn, Edward, your girl's a hottie."

I glared. "Don't make me tell Alice you just said that."

He laughed but averted his eyes. The girls heard our feet crunching through the dry grass and sat up as we approached.

"Took you guys long enough, what'd you bring?" Alice asked.

"The usual," Jasper told her.

I spoke to Bella with forced airiness. "Let's go in the water before we eat."

She gave me a funny look, as if she could tell something was off, but held out her hands for me to pull her up.

We left Jasper and Alice sitting in the heat with their lunches and walked down to the lake hand in hand. I veered to the left, steering us around a small peninsula that jutted out into the water. Once we were alone, I stopped and pulled my sweaty shirt over my head, dropping it and my hat at the water's edge. Bella gripped my hand as our toes sank into the squishy clay, the water a cool contrast to the humid air. We followed the gentle slope of the bottom until we were deep, up to her shoulders, and then I dropped her hand and went out a little further, until I could feel the cold water breaking against my own shoulders. Bella looked baffled by my desertion.

"You're too far away," she protested.

"Come here." I held my hand out.

She pushed off the bottom, reaching out for my hand. When our fingers met, I pulled her toward me. Her arms wound around my neck and her legs went around my waist; she was weightless in the water. Her soft skin was still warm, and she smelled different, tropical, like coconut. I sighed and buried my face in her hair.

"Edward, are you okay?" Her intuition was hard to hide from.

"Not really."

"What happened?"

"You left your phone in my car."

"Oh. Um… I'm sorry?"

I pulled back, my arms cinched around her waist. "It rang while we were getting lunch."

Understanding seemed to dawn on her instantly. "You answered it?"

"Yeah."

Her face darkened like a cloud had passed over the sun. "What did he say?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I can see it does. What did he say?"

"He wanted to talk to you."

"And?"

"And he pissed me off, okay? He thinks he has some kind of claim on you. It's fucked up. He's beyond fucked up."

"Did you say anything to him?"

"I told him to leave you alone. He hung up. It was over in five seconds."

Her frown was deep. "I thought I said I didn't want you to talk to him."

"I thought your father was going to change your number."

"He is. He's going to today."

"He doesn't seem to be in much of a hurry."

She frowned. "None of this is Charlie's fault. If you hadn't answered my phone, none of this would have happened."

"What was I supposed to do? Ignore him? Let him leave you a nasty voicemail? I'm so goddamn tired of sitting by and watching while he makes you miserable."

She looked down at the water where the ends of hair were floating. Braids weaved in among the dark water, swirling around her shoulders. She sniffled once, making my nerves go right back on edge. "Shit, Bella. Are you crying?"

She shook her head.

"Look, I'm sorry," I said, my voice a hell of a lot calmer. "I couldn't help myself, but you're right. I shouldn't have answered."

"It's fine," she whispered with a shrug. "That doesn't even matter."

My wet hands found her face. "Look at me." She did, and she looked freaked out, like she was going to fall apart at any second. "I don't want you to be sad."

"I don't want you to be mad. Somehow Riley's still managing to ruin everything."

"That's not true," I said, but it didn't escape me that we'd had similar conversations before.

"You're upset."

I held her closer, as if my sheer will was enough to protect her from Riley and anyone else who might try to hurt her. "I'm pissed, actually. I'm so sick of worrying about whether he's going to make good on his promise to hunt you down."

Her eyes found mine, intense and seriously startled. Her arms slipped from my shoulders and folded across her chest. "He won't find me," she offered, her voice and her argument weak. "He has no idea where I live now."

Her naïve certainty bothered me. "You have to be more careful."

"I am careful."

I ran my hands down her back and along her narrow waist, my fingers tangling in the strings that tied her suit bottoms in little bows at her hips. "No, you aren't," I said gently. "Think of the nights you spend alone at home while your parents are traveling. Think about how we met—in a dark parking lot. You should carry pepper spray or—"

"Or what?" she interrupted. "A baseball bat? A switch blade? I can't alter my life."

"You can be cautious. I don't trust him, Bella. I—" _I love you_. I shook my head, flustered and at a loss. "I can't stand the thought of something happening to you."

"Okay," she said, her expression softening. "I'll be more careful, but you have to stop worrying."

"Yeah, right," I said, heavy on sarcasm.

"You know, thanks to your big mouth, we won't have to talk about this again. I should have a new phone number by tonight."

I smile a little, reluctant to ruin our day with my foul mood. "Are you going to give it to me?"

"You'll be the first person I give it to."

Winding her arms around my neck, she leaned in to kiss me, her surefire way of distracting me from the unpleasantness of the last few minutes. I kissed her back with neediness that was new, exploring her mouth and her body, barely toeing the edge of decency.

She leaned back in my arms, letting her hands run down my chest and over my stomach. "I don't ever want to know how much practice with kissing you had before me."

"Good," I said, smiling mischievously. I gave the strings on the back of her bathing suit a slight tug.

She gasped, her eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't!"

I laughed. "I want to."

"I think you're underestimating my smarts. My ties are double-knotted."

Of course. I dipped my head, brushing my lips against her ear. "You don't actually wear this bathing suit in public, do you?"

She giggled. "Mostly just in my backyard… and I wore it in Maui during spring break. Have you ever been?"

"To Hawaii? No. I've never been further west than Memphis."

"Really? We'll have to go someday."

The way she said it was so absolute, like there wasn't the slightest doubt in her mind that someday the two of us would vacation together on a faraway tropical island. "Okay," I agreed, because I would have followed her to the frozen tundra of the Arctic if she asked me to.

**Where's your dream vacation spot? Thanks for reading and reviewing! :)**


	9. Nine

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

**Please be advised that this is a story about rape, it's effects on a high school relationship, and the beginning steps of recovery for both the victim and her significant other. I have already written this story in its entirety (I will update weekly) and can assure you that there are no scenes of gratuitous violence or graphic sexual assault. The topic of sexual assault is handled realistically, but with upmost sensitivity. Still, if rape is a topic that is especially upsetting to you, you might want to read another story. **

**All Twilight references belong to Stephenie Meyer. Original material belongs to this author.**

**This chapter is sort of steamy. :)**

CHAPTER NINE  
**Bella**

My plan was ingenious. Carefully thought out, every detail considered, all the loose ends tied up into pretty little bows. I'd finally come up with a way to repay Edward for all the meals he treated me to, for all the driving he did when we went out, for his constant support, and for his general awesomeness.

I was going to clean his bedroom.

I'd left school an hour early, faked illness to get out of last period and my tutoring session, then rushed home to change into tattered jeans and a plain white t-shirt. I'd called Esme on the way, knowing Thursday was her day off, hoping she'd be home and a willing accomplice.

She was out front when I pulled up, tending to her rose bushes with a careful, practiced hand. I wandered through the lush lawn to the far side of the yard to greet her.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked, looking at me from under the brim of her sun hat. "Edward's bedroom is bordering on toxic."

That was a definite exaggeration; otherwise, I'm not so sure I could've ever set foot in there. Cluttered, yes. Filthy, no. "Sure. I'm actually looking forward to it."

"Oh, sweetie, I'm not so sure you know what you're getting yourself into. I have to mentally prepare myself just to go in to get his laundry—which, by the way, I'm behind on."  
"I'll take care of it."

"He's going to owe you big for this."

"No, not at all. He's always so wonderful to me. I want to do something to show him how much I appreciate him."

"Well, you're a better woman than me."

I laughed. "Somehow I doubt that's true."

"I'll be done out here in a little while. Let me know if you need anything."

"I will. Thanks, Esme."

I let myself in through the front door and, after greeting a very excited Maggie, made my way upstairs. His sheets were my first load of laundry, and after sorting the clothing on the floor into darks and lights, I tackled his desk, sorting through pens and papers, text books and CDs. It was truly a wonder Edward could live the way he did.

His dresser was my next project. I was halfway through emptying and reorganizing the drawers when I heard my phone ringing from my bag.

I hadn't heard from Riley since my father changed my phone number, but that didn't matter. The same vertigo-inducing sense of doom my ringtone always brought washed over me, causing a shudder that threw me off balance. I shuffled mechanically through my purse in search of my phone, hoping it was Edward, but knowing it wasn't. He was at practice.

It was my sister.

"Mom asked me to check up on you. She and Dad are having an early dinner with his clients."

My parents were in Atlanta for the next two days. My mom had been hesitant to leave me home alone, but she knew my father needed her, always the gracious and enthusiastic conversationalist, for networking.

"I'm good. Everything's good."

"How's The Boy?" Her somewhat condescending nickname for Edward. I couldn't really blame her. Just like my father, she didn't like the idea of me having a new boyfriend. Watching what I'd gone through with Riley scarred her almost as badly as living it had scarred me.

"He's fine."

"Are you seeing him tonight?"

_Absolutely._ "Probably."

"Alone?"

"I don't know, Emily. I think so." I went back to sorting and folding, making stacks of t-shirts and sweats, a huge heap of rolled socks and pile of underwear—my first glimpse of what he wore under his jeans.

"Do Mom and Dad know you have him over when they're not home?"

"What do you think?"

"I'll tell you what I think. It's a bad idea. You shouldn't be alone with him, all secluded. I don't trust him."

"You don't know him."

"Do you?"

"He's nothing like Riley."

"Are you sleeping with him?"

I gasped, shocked that she had the nerve to ask something so personal. "No!" Emily had always been more like a parent than a sibling. We didn't really have a girl-talk kind of relationship.

"I'm not sure I believe you."

I sighed and started placing the neat piles of clothing back into Edward's dresser. "Believe it. I'm not."

"Are you going to?"

"Emily! I am not having this conversation with you!" I wasn't sure what had gotten into my sister, but I didn't like it. I was almost at the point where I would have rather dealt with a call from Riley.

"Just make sure you're careful if you do. You should get on the pill."

"Okay, thanks for calling. I'm hanging up now."

And I did, but not before I heard her shout something about The Boy and condoms. My cheeks were on fire. I prayed Esme didn't stroll upstairs and catch me holding a stack of her son's underwear, anxious and tongue tied.

The afternoon flew by. By the time I finished running the vacuuming and shining the TV screen until it gleamed, it was nearly six o'clock. I did a slow turn, taking in all my hard work, feeling a huge sense of accomplishment at the changes I'd made. Edward's room was spotless.

I collapsed on his bed, resting my head on a fresh, fluffy pillow, and let my eyes fall closed.

###

I woke up to soft, feathery kisses across my cheek, a gentle hand pushing my hair away from my face. It felt so wonderful I held off on opening my eyes, content to let him fuss over me as long as he liked.

"Hey," he finally whispered.

I opened my eyes. He was kneeling on the floor in front of me, hair still damp and wild from his after-practice shower. I smiled at the sight of him. "Hi. How was practice?"

"Fine. I see you've been busy."

I sat up, for the first time second-guessing my cleaning spree. Would he see it as controlling? As me sneaking into his room, nosing around his private space? Other than the weekend before at the lake, I'd yet to see Edward anything more than mildly irritated, but I wondered if this might be the thing that would push him over the edge. I felt a tingling of panic, a fear that had been dormant for months. Would he yell?

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice small and timid. "Are you mad?"

He was instantly confused. "Why would I be mad?"

"You told me you didn't want me cleaning in here."

"Yeah, well, I might forgive you. How did you do all this?"

My shoulders relaxed with relief. "I've been working up here all afternoon. I pretended to be sick so I could skip sixth period and my tutoring session."

"Then Alice's a liar because I looked for you after school. She told me you went to tutoring early."

"I asked her to. I didn't want you to look for me and worry." I grinned playfully. "I'm supposed to be more careful, remember? After I left school I called your mom to see if she was home. She was pretty enthusiastic about my plan."

He chuckled and gazed around his immaculate bedroom. "I bet she was, but this is way too much. Thank you, but don't ever do it again."

"Let's face it. A deep cleaning was long overdue."

He shrugged. "That _might_ be true."

"Oh, I know it is. But, I have to say, I did this for me too. I'm not sure how much longer I could have hung out in here the way things were."

"Ah, the truth comes out." He got up and moved onto the bed, then secured an arm around my waist and tugged me down to the pillows with him.

"Edward!" I whispered in protest. "Your mother is downstairs!"

"So? She was on the phone when I came in. She won't come up."

It felt too good to be in his arms to argue. I let him pull me closer, curling up in front of him, my back snug against his chest. He hugged me and murmured, "Seriously, thank you so much. This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

"You're welcome. Let's see how long you can maintain it."

I listened to his steady breathing, trailing my fingers up and down his forearm, barely grazing his skin. I smiled and slowed my motions when I felt goose bumps erupt, fantasizing about how lovely it would be to spend the whole night curled up in his arms.

"Are you going back to sleep?" he whispered when my hand stilled.

"No." But I wanted to, with him. I was dying to ask him to come home with me, to spend the night, but I couldn't form the words necessary to ask. Fear of rejection was part of it. Edward was nothing if not gentlemanly and I wasn't sure if he'd view sleepovers as crossing the invisible line he seemed to so enjoy toeing. Plus, sleeping in the same bed blurred all kinds of boundaries. I wasn't about to assume he was ready for that.

"I liked coming home and finding you asleep on my bed," he said, his voice a hum in my ear. "That's something I could get used to."

_Me too._ "I didn't mean to fall asleep. I was waiting for your last load of laundry, which is probably dry by now—"

"Oh, Bella… you washed my clothes too?"

"Where did you think all the dirty laundry on your floor went? I'd just planned to lie down for a few minutes, but your bed was so comfortable."

"It's a hell of a lot better with you here, trust me."

I silently debated for a few seconds before saying, "I didn't sleep very well last night."

His body went rigid behind me. "He's not calling you again, is he?"

"No… but it's not like him to give up easily. I can't help but wonder if maybe he's got something up his sleeve."

"If he knew where you lived, do you think he'd come?"

"I wouldn't put it past him. I really think he might be crazy."

Edward held me closer, tighter. "No wonder you can't sleep."

"I'll be okay. It's was the creaks of the house settling that put me on edge, that's all. I have an overactive imagination."

"Still, I don't like you staying by yourself at night."

It was as good a time as any to ask him to stay with me, but I couldn't—not like this. His misguided obligation to protect me from anything remotely bad was the only thing about him that ever frustrated me. The last thing I wanted was a babysitter. "You can't be with me all of the time, Edward."

"I wish I could. I'm happiest when I'm with you."

I started tracing shapes on his forearm again. "Do you ever think about how easy this has been?"

"What?"

"This. Us. Sometimes it seems too good to be true."

"You're right," he said. "It has been easy, but that's good, right? Maybe it's easy because we're meant to be together."

My hand stilled on his arm. I twisted so we were face to face, needing to see his expression. He gazed at me with such tenderness I felt like I was sinking into him. _I love you! _my head shouted, the words begging to be spoken, but I held off, determined to let him say it when—if ever—he was ready."I think you're right," I whispered instead.

"Sleep here tonight, Bella."

My eyes widened in surprise. _Here?_ That seemed silly. "I can't."

"Why? Your parents will never know."

"That may be true, but there are lots of other reasons why that's a bad idea."

"Like what?" he asked, completely serious.

"Gosh, where should I start? I know your mom is relaxed about rules, but something tells me she'd object to a sleepover under her roof—just down the hall from her bedroom, no less."

"I'll talk to her about it. I'll let her believe you'll be in the guest room."

"I have homework."

"You can do it after dinner. I'll help you," he said with a wink. "Any other excuses?"

"Um… I don't have a toothbrush. Or pajamas."

"I have a couple of extra toothbrushes in my bathroom, and I'm sure I can dig up something for you to sleep in."

"Why can't we go to my house? It's empty," I said, giving into what I'd wanted all along.

"We can stay at your house tomorrow. I want you here tonight. In my bed."

"I don't know, Edward… I don't want to push your mom. I mean… are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm positive. You need to sleep and you don't sleep well when you're home alone. I can't have you walking around like a zombie until your parents come back."

"They'll be home Saturday, you know. I'll be fine until then."

He looked at me for a long time and then breathed, "Please, Bella," turning on the charm he knew I couldn't ever resist.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," I scolded weakly.

"So you'll stay?"

"Are you really going to make me sleep in the guest room?"

"Hell, no. I want you with me."

I considered. "I'll stay… _if_ your mother's okay with it."

"She will be. I'll go talk to her."

We went downstairs, Edward headed for the kitchen and me for the laundry room. His t-shirts were toasty warm as I pulled them one by one from the dryer, carefully folding crisp creases into them and piling them atop the machine.

"Is Bella staying for dinner?" Esme's voice echoed down the short hallway.

"Yeah," I heard Edward answer. "You don't care if she sleeps here tonight, do you?"

"Where?" Her voice was wary, as if she'd known the subject of sleepovers was going to come up sooner than later.

"Does it matter?"

"You know better than to answer a question with a question." She sighed loud enough for me to hear and suddenly I felt bad about my unintentional eavesdropping. I sped up my folding, anxious to get back upstairs. "_I_ don't care if she stays," Esme continued to my relief, "but what about her parents?"

"They're out of town."

"Okay, but would they allow her to stay the night?"

_Definitely not_, I thought.

"I don't know," Edward said, but I had a feeling he did.

"Honey, you know I trust you, and Bella for that matter, but I don't want her parents to think my house is some kind of den of sin."

Her casual usage of the expression horrified me, and judging by Edward's forcibly relaxed tone, he was equally disturbed. "I'm sure they wouldn't think that. I imagine they'd appreciate us keeping an eye on her."

"That's easy for you to say—she's not your daughter."

"Mom, seriously—"

"Edward, I am being serious."

It wasn't going smoothly. Esme was easygoing to fault when it came to what Edward did and didn't do. He'd told me about how she'd demanded that his dad not to go out with his friends the night he died, put her foot down and made a scene, only to have two uniformed police officers show up on her front door step a few hours later— it was the reason she'd let Edward make his own decisions ever since.

"Okay, here's the thing," he said, his voice lower, like he was all of the sudden conscious of my presence in the house. "Bella's gotten some weird phone calls in the past few weeks. She doesn't sleep well when her parents are away."

It was quiet for a few seconds; I imagined the two of them in a stare down. Then Esme, her voice exasperated, asked, "Would it matter if I said I'd prefer that Bella sleep in the guest room?"

"Probably not. What would be the point?"

I stifled a groan at his less than discreet response and quickly folded his last t-shirt. I flung it onto the top of the pile and hightailed upstairs before I was discovered.

###

After dinner, Edward and I went to the living room upon my insistence that I get at least some studying done. I sat next to him on the couch with my Biology book and a stack of vocabulary cards while he watched a baseball game on mute.

During the seventh inning and shortly after Esme had come in to tell us good night, I absentmindedly remarked, "I can't believe you have absolutely no studying to do."

He draped an arm over my shoulders. "I'm a senior and it's April… believe it."

I flipped through my cards and made a note on one with my pen. "Well, I have tons to do. Finals are coming up in a few weeks."

"Who cares? You've already gotten into a good school. And, there are other things we could be doing right now," he pointed out. "I doubt you _have_ to study."

I rolled my eyes at his lackadaisical attitude. If only everything were as simple as Edward made it out to be. If only everything came as easily to me as it seemed to come for him. "I do," I said. "I have a Spanish test tomorrow morning."

"Oh, please," he whispered. "You're brilliant and you know it." He leaned in and kissed my neck. My pen stilled at the feel of his mouth, warm and persistent, and I shivered, exactly the reaction he'd probably been aiming for.

"And you're a bad influence," I said, giving him a playful shove. "Give me ten more minutes, and then I'll watch the end of the game with you."

I had serious trouble concentrating on verb conjugation with his arm around me, his fingers toying idly with my hair. It wasn't long before I gave up and tossed my book onto the floor. Without saying a word, I turned the volume on the television back up and rested my head on his shoulder.

The game ended up in extra innings and by the time it was over, I was exhausted.

"Come on, let's get ready for bed," he said, taking my hand and pulling me off the couch.

We went up to his room where he rooted around in his newly organized dresser drawers for something for me to sleep in, settling on heather gray sweats and a white t-shirt that looked far too big. I followed him into the bathroom where he found me a new toothbrush and a clean towel.

"Come back to my room when you're done, okay?"

I nodded and closed the door, the reality of our little slumber party filling me with sudden apprehension. The only person I'd ever shared a bed with was my sister and we'd both been under the age of ten. I wanted to stay with Edward, I really, _really_ did, but my fears—of the unknown, of exposing my vulnerabilities, of drooling on his pillowcase—were giving me major second thoughts.

I faced the mirror, sighing at the sight of my flat, sleepy eyes. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and went about my bathroom routine—scrubbing my face clean, carefully brushing my teeth—fright at having to explain my sudden departure to Edward the only thing keeping me from racing outside to my car.

The clothes he'd given me were far too big. I rolled his sweats twice at my hips, then a third time, and tried on his shirt. I was swimming in it, plus, I looked like a marshmallow. It would never do. I pulled it off and replaced it with the shirt I'd been wearing all evening, a cute, fitted version of the one he'd given me. If I was going to take a flying leap out of my comfort zone, at least I'd look decent doing it.

I'd stalled long enough.

He was on his bed when I opened the door. I offered him a small, nervous smile as I closed the door behind me, silently clicking the lock into place. "You're sure this is okay with Esme?"

"Oh yeah. She likes you too much to kick you out."

I eyed him skeptically. "Right… should I be in the guest room right now?"

"Not unless you want to be." He patted the bed next to where he sat. "I'd rather you stayed with me though. I don't think I can stand to have you sleeping a wall away."

My smile grew at the idea that he wanted me around as much as I did him. Sometimes the constant, insatiable craving I felt for him made me feel like a crazy person. It was nice to know I wasn't alone. I sat down.

"What's with your shirt?" he asked, gliding his hand along my back.

"Yours was too baggy."

"That was kind of the point. I don't need added temptation."

I giggled at his backward compliment and kissed him.

"Thank you for staying tonight," he said when we parted.

"Thanks for asking me." I was feeling better. He'd managed to ease my nerves with casual conversation, sweet, simple words, and now I wanted nothing more than to get under the covers with him. I scooted to the side of the bed that ran against the wall. "I get the inside, right?" I asked, half teasing.

"No." He grabbed my waist and flipped me back toward the edge. "I get the inside. It's where I always sleep."

"But how do I know I won't end up on the floor in the middle of the night?"

"It's a queen-sized bed, Bella. I think there's room for both of us."

I tried to wriggle my way back over him, laughing as he held me back with one hand. "Come on. There's no guarantee you won't shove me out of bed in your sleep."

"Sure there is." He paused, waiting for my squirming to stop. I stilled and looked up, curious; his eyes were dark, liquid jade and intensely serious. I felt the world shift even before he spoke, his voice soft and velvety. "I love you too much to do something like that."

I was frozen on top of him, staring with my mouth hanging open, wondering if I could've possibly heard him correctly. I knew he loved me. I saw it every time he looked at me. Felt it every time he touched me. He'd said things that alluded to love, to the depth of his feelings, but I hadn't expected him to say _it_. Edward kept his feelings close. It was what he did, what he'd always done, apparently, and as much as I wanted to hear him say the words, I'd come to terms with the fact that he probably wouldn't, at least not for awhile.

He reached up and caressed my cheeks, staring right back into my eyes. "What are you thinking?"

I shook my head, dumbfounded. "I'm not sure I heard you right."

"Yeah, you did. I love you, Bella." The words were stunningly perfect coming from him.

I blinked and whispered, "I love you, too."

I leaned down and pressed my lips to his neck. He let me kiss a trail up his jaw and across his cheek before his mouth met mine. I wormed my way into the coveted spot next to the wall and curled up against him, kissing him without inhibition, without any other care in the world but the feel of his mouth on mine, his body against me. Only a few minutes passed before I was topless, and then so was he, and I couldn't even remember breaking our kiss to make it happen. The atmosphere in the bedroom was so charged I couldn't find it in me to care about anything but Edward and his sentiment and his warm hands roaming across my skin.

"I love you," he whispered again, his lips moving against my neck. "So much."

He pushed the waistband of the sweats I wore lower, so slowly, until I was able to kick them off beneath the quilt. My heart was pounding in my ears. We were in foreign territory, knocking boundaries out of the way, but as nervous and terrified and emotional as I was… I longed for more.

He must have sensed as much because he continued to kiss my neck, gliding a hand up my bare thigh, finding the places of my body previously untouched, places responsive beyond comprehension. With a blissful sigh, I eased my legs apart, allowing him better access, and his hand effortlessly found my most sensitive skin. He focused all his attention there for what could have been seconds or hours or a millennium, until I buried my face in his neck to smother a low, "Oh, God..." and fell apart in his arms, imploding into a rainbow of infinite colors, surprising him just as much as myself.

He sprinkled my face with kisses while I recovered, breathing heavy in a body that couldn't stop tingling, my fingers entwined in his hair.

When I finally came down, he laid back on his pillow, looking quite satisfied with himself. I nestled against him, smiling, and whispered, "Thank you."

He grinned. "Anytime."

I laughed quietly and raised my head to gaze at him. "I want to do that for you," I said, suddenly shy.

He brushed my warm cheek with his fingertips. "You don't have to."

"I know." And I did know, but the thing was… I wanted to. I wanted intimacy with Edward, the deepest, most meaningful kind of intimacy. I wanted to make him feel as amazing as he'd just made me feel.

I copied his process, kissing his neck, teasing his stomach, his legs, his hips. I removed his sleep pants in that same tantalizingly slow way he'd removed my sweats, and then, tentatively, I touched him through the boxer briefs he still wore. "Can I take them off?" I whispered.

He chuckled and ran his fingers through my hair. "You can do whatever you want."

The sight of him naked surprised me, though it shouldn't have. I'd been well-versed in the male anatomy, thanks most recently to Rosalie, but with Edward everything was always different. Better, brighter, mind-blowing. Gingerly, I ran my fingertips over satiny, strained skin and then paused, at a loss. I looked up at him; he was still laying back, relaxed, eyes closed.

"Show me what to do?" I whispered.

Without saying anything, without even opening his eyes, he covered my hand with his own and showed me. Showed me how to make him go tense with anticipation and moan with pleasure and come apart the same way I had a few minutes before.

Watching it happen to Edward-tight muscles, eyes squinted tight, breathy gasps-was even better than experiencing it myself.

After, he kissed my hair and then my mouth before falling back on the pillows and pulling me into his arms. I rested my head on his chest where his skin was hot and his heart was thudding. "Are you going to sleep?" I asked, voice heavy. What I really meant was, _Are we done for tonight?_

He combed through my hair, the strands gliding easily through his fingers. "Uh, I probably should. I don't know if you realize, but you're kind of making me crazy. If we don't stop now, I won't want to stop at all and we can't… do this tonight."

"Oh… I know." Of course not. There was no way our first time could be down the hall from his sleeping mother. Still, the fact that he'd considered it _was_ kind of flattering. I gazed at him, biting my lip, trying to suppress a smile but failing miserably. "Sorry… about making you crazy and all."

He laughed quietly. "God, don't be sorry! That was amazing. You're kind of irresistible, even when aren't trying to be."

He rolled onto his side to retrieve our clothes from the floor. When we were dressed and back under the covers, he flipped off the lamp and enveloped me in his arms, fitting me snuggly beside him. "You know," he whispered, "I've wanted to stay the night with you ever since the first time we kissed. I was falling for you, even then."

"Me, too," I whispered, honesty coming easily in the darkness.

"When you're ready, I want to experience everything with you, Bella." His voice was so solemn, so quiet; I had to strain to hear him. Did he mean what I thought he meant?

Emily's voice echoed in my head, _It hasn't been that long_. Was time even relevant? Did time matter knowing that Edward and I were so serious about each other? So genuinely and wholly committed?

I was ready, definitely. Without a doubt. "You know," I said softly, "tomorrow night we'll be alone at my house… all night."

"I'm looking forward to it."

I'm not sure where I found the courage to ask the question, but it was out of my mouth before I had a chance to consider it. "Will you want to stop tomorrow night?"

"No," he said immediately. And then, "Not unless you want to."

I smiled against his chest. "I won't."

**I'd love to hear your thoughts. Click review! :) **


	10. Ten

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

**Please be advised that this is a story about rape, it's effects on a high school relationship, and the beginning steps of recovery for both the victim and her significant other. I have already written this story in its entirety (I will update weekly) and can assure you that there are no scenes of gratuitous violence or graphic sexual assault. The topic of sexual assault is handled realistically, but with upmost sensitivity. Still, if rape is a topic that is especially upsetting to you, you might want to read another story. **

**All Twilight references belong to Stephenie Meyer. Original material belongs to this author.**

CHAPTER TEN

**Edward**

Our Friday night baseball game turned out to be an easy win. Emmett, Jasper and I were on a victory high when we left the locker room for the courtyard. The girls were waiting for us in a small circle of three, talking and laughing in the fading light.

As soon Bella spotted me, she hurried over and threw her arms around my neck. I dropped my bag and swept her up in a hug. She giggled as her feet left the ground and I wondered how I could have possibly missed her so much after just a few hours. I ignored her squirming—not to mention the crowd around us—and kissed her.

"So, I have an idea," she said as I lowered her to her feet. "You may not like it though, so be honest either way."

"Lay it on me."

"Well, I was thinking, since nobody's home at my house, maybe we can all go there instead of Fork's. I can order some pizzas and we can hang out." She raised her eyebrows expectantly, waiting for my answer.

"You know Emmett and Jasper will want to drink."

"That's okay. It's better they do it at my house than somewhere riskier, right?"

"Yeah, okay, but you're going to have to get Emmett's approval to break tradition. We always go to Fork's after a win. He can be a real baby sometimes."

"Rose said she'd take care of it," Bella said with a wink.

I picked up my bag from the ground so we could join the group. Emmett was standing next to Rosalie looking annoyed, but as soon as Bella told him he could drink at her house _while_ eating pizza, he brightened considerably.

We walked out to the parking lot together, then split up to drive to Bella's. She and Rose had taken her car home before the game, so she climbed into the Volvo with me and took my hand as I steered away from the school. We were a small caravan heading up the big hill to the Swan house.

My friends' eyes widen as we followed Bella through the front door and into the kitchen. The house was impressive anyway, but at night with the chandeliers shining and the pool shimmering through the back windows, it was extraordinary. She motioned everyone into the family room where they spread out on the big couch. Jasper found the TV remote and began flipping through the channels, probably in search of a game.

I followed Bella into the kitchen and sat down on a barstool, watching as she slid Emmett's case of beer into the refrigerator, then called for pizzas. She hopped up onto the counter after hanging up the phone and motioned me over.

I rounded the island, taking her outstretched hands. "You're quite the little hostess."

"This is fun for me. I've never really had friends over here." I raised a skeptical eyebrow and she smiled. "Other than you, of course."

"Are you sure this is okay? I don't want you in trouble."

"It's fine. I'm sure by now my mom and dad assume you hang out here even when they're not home."

"Yeah, but what about them?" I asked, jerking a thumb toward the living room.

"My parents will never know. Besides, they might have more of a problem with the fact that you'll be sleeping here tonight than anything else." She reached up to turn my hat backward and kissed me quick.

"Yeah, let's hope they never, ever find out about that."

"They won't. I'm glad you're staying with me tonight, Edward."

"Me too. Let's not let everybody stay long. I'm looking forward to… going to bed."

She laughed and kissed me until Emmett shouted something about being ready for a beer.

We hung out in the family room watching baseball until the doorbell rang. Bella's gaze met mine from across the room where she was talking with Alice and Rose. Her eyes went bright with competition. She shook her head, a silent warning. I shot her a quick, cocky grin before we both jumped up, racing out of the room as our puzzled friends stared after us.

By the time she'd grabbed her purse from the kitchen and come running through the foyer with a wad of bills clutched in her hand, I was passing cash through the open door.

"Too late," I declared as the delivery man passed me three greasy cardboard boxes.

"Edward! I'm paying for those."

"Nope, it's done."

I shut the front door and walked passed her to the kitchen, carrying the pizzas triumphantly. She huffed and stomped across the marble floor behind me.

I dropped the boxes on the counter and got a stack of plates and a handful of forks out while Bella seethed with her arms crossed. Our friends trickled into the kitchen, drawn by the smell of cheese and pepperoni.

Rose noticed Bella's pouting and went to stand next to her. "What's wrong?"

"Edward's in trouble," Alice sang, joining Jasper and Emmett on the barstools.

"Ooh, what'd you do?"

"Nothing."

At the same time Bella said, "He paid for the pizzas!"

"Big deal," Jasper said. He'd been raised with the same Southern etiquette as me.

"Big deal?" He never lets me pay for anything!" She sounded wounded, but her eyes were sparkling playfully as she turned to face me. "It's my house and I invited everyone over. That means _I_ pay for the food."

I slid two slices of pizza onto a plate and passed it to her with an innocent smile. "Let's not do this tonight."

"Why not?"

I glanced pointedly across the kitchen. Our friends were gathered around the island, practically inhaling their pizza and watching us with unbridled interest.

Her mouth quirked into a smile. "Who cares?"

I snatched her hand and pulled her toward me, catching her plate as she fell into my chest. "I care," I said, my voice low and gravelly, like we were the only ones in the room. "After what you did in my room last night, I'm the one who owes you."

It was only after Emmett and Jasper began to snicker that the potential double-meaning of my supposedly innocent words sunk in. Bella bit her lip to keep from smiling, her arms tight around me.

"Dude, I know we're always begging you to be a little more forthcoming, but that might've been an over-share," Jasper said.

Alice swatted him, then reached around to whack Emmett. "She cleaned his room, you perverts. Knock it off."

I had no idea how Alice knew, but I was glad she did. I pressed a kiss to the top of Bella's head. She leaned into me, the two of us lost in our own world while our friends carried on around us.

"Yeah, okay," Emmett said, still laughing. "Whatever you did was clearly amazing, Bella. Maybe you can teach Rose some of your tricks."

Rose, her eyes judgmental, put her slice of pizza down and frowned. "Seriously? You cleaned his room? That's so very… domestic of you."

"Take notes, babe," Jasper said to Alice. "Maybe you can come over tomorrow and clean up for me."

"Sure, sweetie, I'd love to," she replied, her voice full of sarcasm.

Emmett abandoned his pizza and went to the fridge for more beer, passing a can to Jasper. "I think that'd be awfully nice of you, Alice. Drop by my house when you're done at Jasper's, would you? I've got a couple loads of laundry you can help me out with."

She glared. "Sure, Em, and then you can go to hell."

"They're insane," I whispered to Bella. "I won't be surprised if you leave me because of my friends."

She laughed. "That'll never happen."

"Really, Bella, how did you manage it?" Alice asked between bites of pizza. She gave a dramatic shudder. "Esme gave up on Edward's room years ago. It's a disaster."

"Not anymore," Bella said. I tightened my arms around her, feeling bad for unintentionally calling her out, for making her defend her actions to our friends. "I wanted to do it," she went on. "He's always doing nice things for me. I wanted to return the favor." She looked at me in her adoring way, the way that always filled me with warmth and happiness.

"I think it's sweet," Alice said.

"I think it's brave," Jasper said.

"I think it's awesome," Emmett said with a grin. I rolled my eyes.

"I think you've set the bar a little too high for the rest of us," Rosalie said.

"I don't care what any of you think," Bella said, shrugging her shoulders. "I love him."

I'm sure there were wide-eyes and a few dropped jaws throughout the kitchen, but I was oblivious to everything but Bella. "I love you, too," I told her.

I couldn't wait to be alone with her.

**Let me know what you think? And thanks for reading :)**


	11. Eleven

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

Two chapters again, since they're short :) And this one's steamy.

**Please be advised that this is a story about rape, it's effects on a high school relationship, and the beginning steps of recovery for both the victim and her significant other. I have already written this story in its entirety (I will update weekly) and can assure you that there are no scenes of gratuitous violence or graphic sexual assault. The topic of sexual assault is handled realistically, but with upmost sensitivity. Still, if rape is a topic that is especially upsetting to you, you might want to read another story. **

**All Twilight references belong to Stephenie Meyer. Original material belongs to this author.**

CHAPTER ELEVEN

**Bella**

Our friends left soon after the pizzas were gone. Edward must have had enough of Jasper's suggestive jokes and Emmett's obvious innuendos, because he all but shoved them out the front door. For half a second I wondered if they knew what we had planned for the night, but then I remembered who I was dealing with—Edward didn't like his friends to know what he'd eaten for lunch. There was no way he'd share something so personal.

We watched a movie in the family room after, some silly romantic comedy I picked out in an effort to relax the mood. I didn't catch much of it. I was too distracted, lying tangled with him on the couch under a soft throw, my stomach rolling with anticipation and excitement about what lay ahead.

When the credits finally rolled onscreen, he followed me up the stairs to my bedroom. We took turns washing up because, ironically, modesty suddenly seemed important. I had a swift internal deliberation about what to wear to bed while Edward changed in the bathroom. I was certain that what I normally wore—one of his sweatshirts and old flannel pants—wouldn't do. Why hadn't I consulted my friends about this? Because Alice would have hauled me to the mall to choose something made of black satin and delicate lace and Rose would have suggested I sleep naked and then asked for details—neither option would do. Finally I threw on the pink tank and matching plaid shorts my sister had given me for Christmas, hoping they'd be just special enough.

I was waiting in bed, the small lamp on my nightstand the only light in the room when Edward came out of the bathroom wearing nothing by running shorts. After a surprised and nervous intake of breath, I pulled back the comforter as he approached, blushing furiously while he took me in before clicking off the lamp.

A wave of sheer panic crashed over me while he slipped between the cool sheets and settled next to me. What the heck I was supposed to do now? I wasn't sure what my role was supposed to be: coy and clueless or sexy and seductive? I was none of those things, and I wasn't sure how to fake them—if I even should. I found myself wishing once again that I'd been a little more interested in girl talk over the last few years. Surely these were the things your friends were supposed to teach you.

I took slow breaths to calm the butterflies that flapped riotously in my stomach. Edward eyed me briefly through the darkness, then gathered me up, holding me close against his toasty skin. My panic subsided a bit. When he pressed his lips gently against my cheek, I knew. I wasn't _supposed_ to be anything. It was just us, him and me. I looped my arms around his neck, marveling at how he could make me comfortable with the simplest touch.

He sighed so deeply I felt the rise and fall of his chest against my own and I drew back, wondering if he was as nervous as me. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"No."

There was something there though; I could feel it in the sudden tightness of his shoulders. "Talk to me?" I whispered.

"I don't know… I just don't want you to ever regret this."

"I won't." Of that, I was positive.

"We can wait, if you want. It doesn't have to be tonight."

"I want it to be tonight, Edward. This is right. I'm ready. I'll never regret it. I know it with everything in me."

"You're sure?"

I nodded. "Are you?"

He took my face in his hands and looked at me, his eyes dark emerald and so very serious. "Yeah."

He kissed me then, soft and sweet and tender. There was an instant of hesitancy—I'm not sure if it was him or me. Maybe it was both of us, but it was reminiscent of our first kiss, back in his kitchen when neither of us was sure how far to push the other. If I hadn't been otherwise occupied, I would have smiled at the memory.

Then the tentativeness evaporated and I felt nothing but a huge sense of relief, like I'd at last been able to let out a deep breath I'd been holding too long. I was intensely aware of everything around me: the heat of his body alongside mine, the clean scent of his soap, my fingertips tickling the velvety hairs on the back of his neck. He was kissing me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Our kisses grew serious, hot and hurried and powerful. His hands slid through my hair, along my cheeks, across my neck. He pulled me closer and slipped them under my tank top, gliding them along my back, then down to my waist. His touch left tingles in its wake and when I pulled away to let out a content sigh, he trailed kisses down my neck, making me shiver like always.

Our clothes fell away quickly and then he was touching me everywhere, just as I was doing to him. He strained against my hand as I preformed the same up and down motion he'd shown me the night before, trying not to become too distracted by his fingers exploring, working me up until the pleasant and persistent fluttering in my belly grew into something warm and almost desperate. I stroked him harder, faster, and it wasn't long before he brushed my hand away and whispered, "Hang on. Not yet."

But _he _didn't stop. No, he touched and caressed, kissed and discovered every inch of me until my entire body was hot and buzzing. I could feel the wetness between my legs. I was aching for him, for more than his fingers. "Now," I said, surprising myself with the insistence that rang in my voice. "I'm ready now, Edward."

He smiled and retrieved a condom from beneath my pillow while I looked on, half wondering when he'd stashed it there and half hoping he'd hurry up with it. Once he was ready, he hovered above me, looking into my eyes with an unspoken question. Holding his face in my hands, I kissed him, the only answer I was capable of while trying to keep blissful tears from welling to the surface. He took one of my hands then, entwining our fingers, resting our joined hands against the pillow near my head.

And then, gently... gradually, giving me time to adjust, he eased into me. It took me a second to catch my breath, to stretch to the point of accomodating him. Freezing time, his eyes found mine again, and I nodded. Slowly, he shifted, pulling out almost all way, until I felt the emptiness and longed for him again. It was almost a relief whe he slid back in. He held me tight and I was glad because otherwise I would have floated away or crumbled into a million pieces. I'd never felt more loved, never loved anyone more than Edward in all my life. He gained a rhythm - a steady rocking of his hips against mine, leisurely kisses, shallow breaths - until he groaned and stiffened and buried his face in my neck. I felt him finish, the steady release of tension from his body, his warm breath on my neck. I held him as close as possible, weaving my fingers into his copper hair until his breathing slowed and he rolled to the side.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, brushing my sweaty hair from my forehead.

"Don't be, Edward. It was perfect," I said honestly.

"I wanted it to feel good for you."

"It did. It was amazing. I promise."

He looked briefly disappointed and I worried that his protective, perfectionist tendencies when it came to me would get in the way, but suddenly light flashed in his eyes. "Be right back."

He disappeared into the bathroom for a few seconds, then returned, the condom disreetly disposed of.

Falling back into my bed, he gathered me against his chest and went to work, first teasing my chest with kisses, then dropping his hand below, where I _did _feel empty and sort of unfulfilled. The feeling didn't last long though, with his fingers tracing tiny figure-eights over skin that was already prickling with heat.

And then I was an inferno, moving against him, panting into his neck, so worked up that I momentarily forgot where I was, _who_ I was. All I could focus on was Edward, doing amazing things to my body, making me feel so alive. When he kissed me deeper and his fingers moved deeper and I felt pleasure deeper than I'd ever felt before, I opened my eyes and looked into his. I couldn't take the tightness in my belly and the excitement in my heart another second. I let myself go… flying, soaring into what could have only been heaven.

After, we lay awake and quiet for a long time, sharing my pillow. His fingers traced adoring lines across my face, like he was memorizing me with his touch. Every once in awhile his lips would follow the paths he made, dropping soft kisses on my cheeks, my eyelids, the tip of my nose. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"For what?"

It took him a second to respond, like I'd caught him off guard, pushed him over an emotional cliff. "Everything," he said at last. "For what we just did. For giving me a chance, for trusting me, for putting up with me."

I smiled. "That's stuff's easy because I love you."

He wound his arms around my waist and nuzzled his nose into my hair. "I love you, too, Bella," he murmured. "So much."

"I think my parents will be out of town again next week," I told him, already planning ahead. "My dad has to go to Memphis and he wants my mom to go too."

"Yeah?"

"They're leaving Wednesday. Maybe you can stay with me?"

He didn't even take a second to consider my offer. "I'm already looking forward to it."

He must have sensed my drowsiness then because he began to rub my back while I lay curled up against him. We fell asleep and didn't leave each other's arms until morning.

**Whew... That was a challenge. Let me know if I got it right? Thanks for reading:)**


	12. Twelve

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

**I've gotten a few questions/concerns about whether or not Bella and Edward are moving too fast and about whether they're behaving responsibly. First, I'll say that in this story they're both 18. Yes, they haven't known each other long. They're acting on they're emotions and going with their guts. My Edward and Bella believe they're in love and choose to express their love physically. I don't necessarily encourage sexual relationships that happen so quickly, but if both parties are consenting adults, who am I to judge? Also, this is fiction. :)**

**Things are about to take a serious turn.**

**As always, Please be advised that this is a story about rape, it's effects on a high school relationship, and the beginning steps of recovery for both the victim and her significant other. I have already written this story in its entirety (I will update weekly) and can assure you that there are no scenes of gratuitous violence or graphic sexual assault. The topic of sexual assault is handled realistically, but with upmost sensitivity. Still, if rape is a topic that is especially upsetting to you, you might want to read another story. **

**All Twilight references belong to Stephenie Meyer. Original material belongs to this author.**

CHAPTER TWELVE

**Edward**

The plan Wednesday night, as it was after every win, was to meet at Fork's for dinner at eight. Bella had gone home to change first, shooing me to my Volvo with an exasperated, "Don't _worry_! I'll meet you there in a little bit."

She'd lifted up on her toes to kiss me, her mouth soft against mine, warm in the cool spring air. Smiling in her bright, carefree way, she'd slipped behind the tinted windows of her car and pulled out of the school parking lot. I'd watched her taillights disappear, waving away whispers of dread that curled around me like smoke.

I sat, crowded into our usual booth at the diner. My friends were completely oblivious to the tension mounting within me while I waited for my girlfriend. She wasn't alarmingly late, especially not by my standards, but she definitely should have shown by now, or at least called.

When our regular waitress came by, we ordered a round of Cokes. She congratulated Jasper, Emmett and me, knowing we only came to Fork's after a win. My friends refrained from commenting on Bella's absence. Maybe they'd noticed the paper napkin I'd shredded into tiny bits and were trying to avoid riling me further. Alice politely asked the waitress if we could have another few more minutes before ordering.

Time passed, the minutes dragging by. Alice shot me a curious look after I'd glanced behind me at the door for the umpteenth time. I ignored her, instead feeling for my phone in my pocket so I could check the time. I stifled a groan when I realized I'd left my phone in my car.

"What time is it?" I asked no one in particular.

Rosalie flipped her blonde hair and glanced at her watch. "Eight-thirty… she should probably be here by now, right? I'll text her."

"No. I'm going to call her," I said standing up.

"She's got to be on her way," Jasper said.

Hovering above the bench, I glanced at Alice for guidance. She looked at Jasper. I didn't miss the quick flash of concern in her eyes. It made me feel a little better, like I wasn't quite as overprotective and crazy as I was starting to feel. "I'm sure she's fine. Let's give her a little while longer."

Rose tapped a quick message into her phone and I, against my better judgment, sat back down, trying to convince myself that Alice was right—she had a sixth sense about these things and she'd never led me astray before. People ran late all the time. Hell, _I_ ran late all the time.

Still, I couldn't shake the anxiety that blanketed me. There could have been hundreds of reasons why Bella was late, but none fit. For every logical explanation that came to mind, my brain cooked up ten more terrifying possibilities.

"I'm going to get my phone."

Emmett rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Edward, how whipped are you? She'll be here."

Always loyal, Alice shot him an icy look before checking her watch. "It _is_ getting late."

"Is there a reason she wouldn't show up?" Jasper asked.

"No," I snapped, furious with myself for waiting so long. I slid to the edge of the booth, my heart pounding against my ribs because suddenly I _knew_ something was wrong.

I stood, but then a phone rang, piercing through the relative quiet of the restaurant. I paused, praying it was her.

Rose grabbed her phone off of the table and checked the display. "It's Bella."

I held out my hand. "Give it to me."

She glared, defiant, not at all pleased with being told what to do. She pushed her curls over her shoulder and put the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

There was a short pause before she frowned and passed her phone to me.

"Bella?" I said, turning my back on the table.

"Where's your phone?" Her voice was detached in a way that chilled me.

"In my car. Where are _you_?"

"At home. I—I don't think I can come to Fork's."

"Why?" I waited, listening as she took a shaky breath. My mouth was very dry. I swallowed thickly. "Bella?"

"I can't talk now," she whispered. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

There was dead air on the line while I considered her words. There was something very wrong about this situation. We had plans—fun, romantic, sexy plans to take advantage of her empty house while her parents were in Memphis. Plans we'd both been looking forward to for days. She wouldn't back out at the last second… not without explanation. My stomach clenched as a million horrific scenarios ran through my head. "I'm coming over," I said, punching the _End_ button before she had a chance to argue.

I sprinted through the Fork's parking lot to my Volvo and hauled ass to her house, breaking every traffic law that wouldn't get me killed and honking like a maniac at anyone who paused for more than two seconds at a stop sign. My insides were tied up in knots, tight with anticipation and dread. I turned onto the Swan's street and flew up the secluded hill, my tires spitting dust and gravel the whole way.

Her BMW was parked in front of the house instead of in the garage like usual. I pulled in behind it and got out, hurrying toward the front door. What I saw stopped me cold.

She was sitting on the steps, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs, illuminated by the glow of porch lights. She was still in the clothes she wore to my game, the dark strands of her hair hanging limp around her face. The small streak of blood on her lower lip made my stomach drop out from under me. Dark red splotches dotted her neck, obvious even in the sparse light. _Bruises_. Her face was pale and her eyes wary, her makeup smudged like she'd cried and wiped the tears away. It was that thought alone that nearly broke my heart.

**It's a short one... More Sunday! I'd love if you'd take a second to review.**


	13. Thirteen

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

**Please be advised that this is a story about rape, it's effects on a high school relationship, and the beginning steps of recovery for both the victim and her significant other. I have already written this story in its entirety (I will update weekly) and can assure you that there are no scenes of gratuitous violence or graphic sexual assault. The topic of sexual assault is handled realistically, but with upmost sensitivity. Still, if rape is a topic that is especially upsetting to you, you might want to read another story. **

**All Twilight references belong to Stephenie Meyer. Original material belongs to this author.**

**A continuation…**

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

**Bella**

I didn't want him to come. Not at all. I was a mess, a complete and utter mess of turmoil and fear. The thought of Edward seeing me that way, seeing the tarnished girl I'd become in less than ten minutes, filled me with so much shame it overwhelmed everything else.

I'd waited outside, shivering on the front doorstep, too afraid of my own house to set foot inside. All of the sudden he was there, standing in the driveway, confused and valiant and worried all at once, and then I didn't want anything _but_ him.

It was hard to focus as he rushed toward me. Instead of Edward, I saw Riley, shoving his way into the house, slamming the front door, snatching my arm in his too-tight grip. His movement had registered like a lightning-fast flash of color—a threat—before anything else. Edward's did too. He knelt on the step below mine. Too close for comfort. I reeled back, scooting away, the denim of my jeans rasping against the cool pavement of the step.

He leaned in, oblivious to my fear, and brushed my hair back. "What happened?" he asked, hysteria mounting in his voice.

I looked past him, unable to meet his eyes. My clasped hands gripped tighter, fingernails digging into tender flesh, my bare toes curling against the paved step. I felt Riley's cold hands on my skin. He'd said he missed me. That he loved me. But there'd been nothing loving about what he did. His touch had been rough and frenzied. His words bitter and demanding.

Every inch of me was irritated. Tight and itchy and uncomfortable. I wished for a long, hot shower. I wanted to scrub myself until I was red and raw and then I wanted to do it all over again. I wished for my mom, her hugs and her companion tears. I wished for the throbbing ache, the hurt that was everywhere, to go away. I wished for Edward to stop looking at me like I was damaged. Like I was going to splinter into a million pieces and blow away in the breeze. I wished for an escape from my head, my memories. I wanted to curl up and die.

"Bella, talk to me. What the hell happened?" He'd interrupted my thoughts. For a split second I hated him for it. My tower of wishes came crashing down, falling around me like his words. The ones I didn't have the strength or courage to respond to. He sat down on my step, leaving a good foot of space between us. His breathing was deep and ragged, a sure sign of his frustration. "You're scaring the shit out of me. You have to tell me what happened."

The thought of him knowing, picturing me with Riley, brought an intense wave of nausea. But Edward wouldn't leave, not without answers. I stared at my hands, my heart slamming in my chest with the force of a jack hammer. "Riley," I was finally able to whisper.

"He called?"

With the slight shake of my head, he got it.

"He _came_ here?"

I nodded, still unable to look at him.

"How did he find you?"

"He followed me home from school. He said he wanted to talk. He pushed his way into the house." There was a sense of accomplishment. I'd managed three sentences, gotten some information out. It was more than I'd thought myself capable of. Exhausted, I gazed into the front yard while Edward sat silent and still beside me, probably trying to make sense of the fragments of information I'd offered.

"Bella?" He sounded so subdued, so overcome with worry, I looked at him. I saw myself reflected back in his eyes, miserable… full of shame.

It was agonizingly apparent when he got it.

Like a robot, emotionless and pragmatic, he stood and strode into driveway. I turned my head, certain he was leaving. I understood. I was disgusted too, but still, I couldn't watch him go. I looked over the hedge, past the lawn, into the dark tree line. I wanted to vanish into it.

It wasn't until the sound of bone crunching against metal echoed across the driveway that I remembered my boyfriend, drifting in the driveway. My head swiveled to the sound and I stared, shocked. It must have been less satisfying than he'd hoped because he reared back, preparing to bury his fist in the aluminum door of his Volvo a second time.

"Edward! Don't!"

"God_damn_ it! Fuck!" He was furious, clenched fists and hunched shoulders, eyes darker than the night sky. Violent and out of control. Fear left me, replaced by concern for him. Worry that he'd hurt himself, or go crazy with rage. I shivered at the thought and his face changed, softened.

He approached the porch, keeping a safe distance. "You're going to the hospital."

"No," I said, aghast. I'd seen movies. I'd read books. I knew what happened to girls who went to the hospital after... I knew about morning after pills and fingernail scrapings and pelvic exams. It was the last thing I wanted, to be poked and prodded like a science experiment.

Like evidence.

He spoke gently. "Bella, you have to."

"I'm fine."

"I know," he said, although we both knew I was anything but. "I'll feel better hearing that from a doctor."

"No. No, Edward." It was ridiculous. Pointless. No doctor could turn back time. I wasn't going to be cured. No dose of medicine would make me feel right again.

"Your lip is bleeding. You're covered in bruises. You're going to the hospital."

His eyes were serious and unwavering. There was strength in them that made me envious. It was strength I wasn't sure I'd ever feel again. Edward wasn't going to back down. "Will you come with me?" I whimpered.

He looked away and blinked a few times. "Yeah, of course. We'll take my car."

"I need to shower."

"No," he said softly. "We should go now."

I was too worn out to protest. He was right, after all. I'd known, subconsciously maybe, that the hospital would be the next step. That a shower, the thing I wanted most, was not in my near future.

I glanced down at my bare feet and thought of my shoes in the foyer, my fancy little sandals kicked carelessly aside in my rush to get changed and off to Fork's. The shoes I'd seen in my peripheral when Riley yanked the button of my jeans open. I couldn't get them. "My bag and shoes are in the foyer."

He looked momentarily confused, but then he stood. With a deep breath, he walked through the wide front door. He reappeared a few seconds later with my things, his face pale, his eyes spooked.

Despite everything I'd been through, despite my bruised skin and fractured heart, I'd never loved him more.

**Thank you for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts.**


	14. Fourteen

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

**In case you haven't seen it, I added Edward's POV of Chapter 13 under TIOF Outtakes/Alternative POVs on my profile page. Check it out. **

**As usual, please be advised that this is a story about rape, it's effects on a high school relationship, and the beginning steps of recovery for both the victim and her significant other. I have already written this story in its entirety (I will update weekly) and can assure you that there are no scenes of gratuitous violence or graphic sexual assault. The topic of sexual assault is handled realistically, but with upmost sensitivity. Still, if rape is a topic that is especially upsetting to you, you might want to read another story. **

**All Twilight references belong to Stephenie Meyer. Original material belongs to this author.**

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Edward

The trip to Nashville and the nearest decent hospital was unbelievably long. Bella leaned against the passenger door, her eyes trained on the gleaming lights of the oncoming traffic. I drove for awhile in silence, my heart heavy with guilt and countless questions. A masochistic desire to know more was nagging me. I didn't want her to suffer alone.

"When did he show up?" I finally asked, illuminated road signs flying past us.

"After I got home from your game." For the first time, I noticed her voice was rougher than usual, gravelly, like she had a sore throat. When she didn't go on, I glanced at her. Our eyes met briefly and she continued. "I ran upstairs to change. The doorbell rang."

"And you _answered_ it?" She should have known better.

"I thought it was you," she said in a small voice.

My grip tightened on the steering wheel, my knuckles turning a dull gray in the dim light. _It should have been me_. "How did he find you?"

"I don't know… something about a friend of a friend. He drove here from Chicago, then went to school and found my car."

"He told you that?"

She nodded. "I humored him because I was scared, but after a few minutes I told him I needed to go." She looked toward me again, then dropped to a whisper. "I was so stupid."

"It wasn't your fault," I said automatically. I reached out to touch her leg, to comfort her, but stopped half way and dropped my arm onto the console. The last thing I wanted was to make her uncomfortable. I couldn't stomach the thought of her pulling away from me again.

"Then what happened?" I asked, my voice tight.

"He yelled at me for moving away, for the restraining order, for changing my phone number. Then he grabbed me."

I heard her sniff and looked to see if she was crying—she wasn't, but the emptiness in her expression was equally alarming. "I don't want to talk about this, Edward."

"Can I ask one more question?" I took her lack of response as a yes. "Where is he now?"

"I don't know. Headed back to Chicago, I guess." She was quiet for a few seconds and I was desperately curious about what she was thinking. Suddenly her head snapped toward me, her eyes alight with fear. "You don't think he'd stay in town, do you?"

"No," I said firmly. "You're safe now."

She curled up in her seat in a way that told me our brief conversation was over. It killed me to see her that way, hunched over like the life was crushed out of her, a ghost of the vibrant girl I loved.

I parked in front of the Emergency Room and walked Bella through the automatic double doors. The place was crowded, full of pitiful people and several crying babies. The walls and floor were a drab gray, with hard plastic chairs lined up in rows. There were a few ancient TVs, the news playing on mute. It was appropriately dismal.

After filling out a few forms, Bella was triaged. A heavy, tired looking nurse called her name, then took her behind a closed door.

She was gone only a few minutes before we were moved to another waiting room, larger but similarly decorated. It was crowded with people, all pale and sloppy and sickly. Even preoccupied, I realized Bella and I stuck out. We sat in the unforgiving chairs and Bella pulled her legs up to her chest, her feet resting against the plastic seat. She laid her head on her knees and gazed at me with a deep sigh.

"Are you okay?" I asked quietly, all too aware of the crowd around us.

"I don't want to do this."

"I know."

"Do you have any idea what they're going to do to me in there?"

"Not really." I assumed there'd be some sort of exam, although I hadn't the slightest idea what it would involve. These matters were so far out of my realm of knowledge it seemed unfair that I was the one accompanying her. Her mother should be with her, or her sister, Emily. Even Rose or Alice would have more helpful than me.

She was still looking at me, her eyes piercing me with deep sadness. She reached up with a trembling hand to brush a stray whisp of hair from her face. "I want to leave."

I took her hand and laced my fingers through hers so she couldn't pull away, hating the way she shook with fear. "We'll go as soon as we can."

People were staring at us—a haggard looking mother with a fussy toddler, an old man with wild white hair and a grouchy expression, a middle aged woman wearing a thick winter coat who couldn't seem to control her wheezy cough—they were all staring at Bella and me like we were some sort of freak show. I wondered briefly what it was about us that drew their attention. We were young, relatively well dressed, and Bella was beautiful—people always stared at her when we were in public—but something told me those weren't the reasons our fellow emergency room patrons couldn't seem to look away. They were curious, I realized, about why we were there and what could possibly have two teenagers who probably had the world at their fingertips, looking so downtrodden and depressed.

Bella squeezed my hand to get my attention. "Everyone knows."

"Nobody knows," I assured her. "They're looking at you because you're so pretty."

That earned me a half-hearted smile that disappeared too quickly. She ran her fingertips over the top of my right hand. I glanced down, noticing for the first time the reddish-purple swelling that marred my knuckles. "This is bad," she whispered.

"It's fine," I said, surprised that there was no pain when there clearly should've been. "It doesn't hurt."

She shook her head, sighing softly. "I'm scared, Edward."

With that, a nurse wearing pink scrubs and a long blonde ponytail pushed through the swinging double doors. "Swan?" she called. "Bella Swan?"

Bella dropped my hand and stood. "You'll be here when I come out?"

"Absolutely," I said, standing up too. I took her face in my hands, not caring in the least about who was looking. I kissed her forehead, inhaling lavender, memorizing her. It was irrational, but the thought of her disappearing behind those doors was agonizing, like I was about to lose a piece of myself, a vital chunk of the whole. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans, fighting the urge to haul her back to the parking.

When she vanished behind the doors with the nurse, I moved to a more secluded chair and glared at each and every person who had the nerve to continue staring at me.

The wait was torture. Nervous and edgy, my skin felt like it was too tight and I had so much pent up energy that I was having serious problems sitting still. I crossed and uncrossed my arms, adjusted my hat repeatedly and tapped my shoe against the dingy laminate floor. I felt sort of bad for disturbing the sick people who were in my vicinity—my fidgeting was probably driving them crazy—so I got up and paced the corridor, walking from the automatic double doors all the way to the swinging entry that had swallowed Bella up. I was a caged animal in search of escape.

I wasn't a violent person. I didn't have any pent up aggression, no underlying issues that made me lash out. I played a noncontact sport for Christ's sake. But given the opportunity, I would've killed Riley Biers. Any asshole could make the threats he'd made, but to follow through… to hear her say no, watch her cry, feel her resist and _still_ take what you want? The thought of him daring to touch my girlfriend, to _hurt_ her, was enough to make me want to strangle him with my bare hands. Another wave of fresh, raw fury crashed over me. My muscles twitched with the urge to jump in my car and hunt him down.

I had to constantly remind myself that the hospital was where I needed to be.

After a long while, that same nurse with the blonde ponytail came back into the waiting room, her eyes searching the crowd. She spotted me sitting alone in the corner, as far from anyone as I could get. She approached, stepping over the outstretched legs of the sleeping man, and sat down at the edge of the empty seat next to me. "Are you Edward?"

"Yeah."

"I'm Melissa." She handed me a cold gel pack. "For your hand. Bella asked me to check on you."

I rolled my eyes and dropped the pack on my knuckles. "I'm fine. Is she okay?"

"As good as can be expected," she answered somewhat cryptically. "We're almost done, then you can take her home." She glanced around and lowered her voice to barely a hum. "Is there any way you can get Bella a change of clothes? We'd like to keep what she wore here."

I considered her request, passing over the reasons she had to make it. "I can't go all the way home, I told her I'd be here when she was finished."

"I understand," she said, her voice kind. "There's a store nearby—a Target. It stays open late. Could you go there and pick something up for her?"

I looked up at the clock that hung over the double doors, something I'd found myself doing a lot over the last couple hours. I remembered seeing the Target as we drove in, just a few blocks away. "I'll be right back," I said, rising from my seat.

"Edward?" She stood, stepping very close. "This is difficult, but she'll need underwear, too." I suppressed a shudder and blinked away images too graphic to consider.

I jogged out to the Volvo and made the quick drive to the store. Once there, I stood in the women's section for far too long, trying to find something appropriate for Bella to wear home. I'd never in my life purchased clothing for a girl, and definitely not under such horrible circumstances. I settled on black sweats and a gray shirt with long sleeves that felt soft and comfortable. Even though I wasn't sure if she'd need them, I grabbed a pair of cheap black flip-flops before heading to the racks of underwear, horrified and disgusted by the turn my life—our lives—had taken in a few short hours. Nausea rushed back full force, making me stagger in the aisle. My fingers closed around a wire display rack, seeking balance, while I tried to will the sick feeling away. With a shallow breath, I grabbed a package of the most nondescript underwear I could find and carried everything to the registers.

I delivered the bag to the hospital's front desk as soon as I got back.

My corner chair was still vacant. I sunk into my seat and let my head fall back against the wall, all of a sudden very tired.

Melissa reappeared soon after, summoning me to the swinging doors with a wave of her hand. "You can come back now. The doctor is filling out some paperwork—release documents and such. As soon as he finishes up, you'll be able to go."

"Okay, thanks," I said, following her down a long, windowless hallway. We stopped at a door that stood slightly ajar. Melissa knocked before pushing it open. Bella was sitting on one of two chairs next to a small desk wearing the clothing I'd bought her. Her hair was pulled into a messy knot at the back of her head and she looked even more exhausted than I felt.

I sat down next to her as Melissa closed the door. "Thank you for the clothes," she whispered.

"No problem. What happens now?" I asked.

"We leave."

"When do you talk to the police?"

She fidgeted a bit in her chair. "I don't know. I'm not sure I will."

I didn't want to believe her. "_Why_?"

"I don't think I want to. I'd rather forget about what happened and move on."

"Bella, how can you not turn him in? He has to pay for what he did!"

"You don't understand," she said, her voice quiet but firm.

"No, I guess I don't." I crossed my arms and exhaled loudly. It had never occurred to me that she might not file charges. "Can't you at least think about it?" I asked

"That's what I'm going to do." Her expression was so worn and wary that I shut my mouth and waited for the doctor in silence.

###

She curled up listlessly in the passenger seat on the trip home. I couldn't find it in me to pressure her into talking. I wasn't even sure if I was ready for answers yet.

"My house?" I asked as I exited the Interstate.

She nodded solemnly.

It was suitably dark, the sky shrouded in a thick layer of clouds that blocked the moonlight. I pulled into the driveway and went around to open Bella's door. She climbed down slowly, her eyes on the ground. Under normal circumstances, I would have taken her hand to lead her up the cobblestones to the porch, but tonight was anything but normal. I was terrified of disturbing the eerie calm that had settled over us. "Watch your step," I said.

The short walk up the stairs to my room was uneventful. I flipped on the light and shut the door so we wouldn't disturb my mom. The last thing I needed was her poking her nose into what was going on.

"Can I shower now?" Bella asked curtly, the first time she'd spoken since we left the hospital.

"Yeah, let me get you something to change into." I pulled some flannel pajama pants and an old baseball t-shirt out of my dresser, then gestured for her to follow me into the bathroom. I found a fresh towel and pointed to her toothbrush, still sitting in the toothbrush holder next to mine. "Anything else you need?"

She shook her head. Her mouth opened like she wanted to say something, but nothing came out. I searched her face, trying to find a clue as to what she'd been about to say.

"What?" I asked.

Her eyes dropped to the floor. "I'm scared."

"Of the shower?" Simple reasoning was not on my side.

"I don't want to be alone," she mumbled.

_Of course_, I thought, cursing my stupidity. "I want you to have privacy, but I'll stay right outside the door. I promise not to leave you alone, okay?"

She nodded gratefully. My stomach twisted with guilt. I left the bathroom before my anguish became obvious.

I sat in the dark hallway, listening to the sound of water hitting the tile floor of the shower, reliving every horrible second of last several hours. The expression Bella had been wearing since I'd arrived at her house was rooted in my memory. The misery in her eyes seemed impenetrable. Terror was there too, lingering, reflected back at me the few times we'd made eye contact.

I was at a complete loss as to what I was supposed to do. I'd failed her, allowed her to be violated in the worst way possible. I didn't know the right things to say. I was scared of moving too fast and startling her or making some obscure motion that would trigger a memory. The whole situation was beyond fucked up.

The spray of the shower head hummed on. My joints were getting stiff so I stretched my legs in front of me, trying to reposition myself without making any noise. I rubbed a hand over my face, feeling faint stubble that had already appeared. I wondered what time it was.

She stayed in the shower for a long time, long enough for me to start to truly worry, but as soon as I did, the water turned off. Then the waiting began again. Being away from her after everything that had happened was making me edgy; the longer I waited, the more impatient I became. When I couldn't take it any longer, I stood and tapped on the bathroom door. "Bella?"

There was a second of silence before knob turned enough to release the lock with a click that seemed to echo through the quiet house. I opened the door enough to slip in, then shut it quickly to block the light from the hallway. She stood in front of the mirror wearing the baggy pajamas I'd given her. Her cheeks were bright pink, from the hot water I assumed, and her hair was wild mess of dripping tangles. Her lip had become more swollen since we'd left the hospital. She turned to face me, looking terribly dejected.

"You okay?" I asked, cringing within at the absurdity of my question.

She shook her head no, and then turned to face the mirror. She picked up a small hair brush she must have found in my medicine cabinet and began to yank it through the knots in her hair, frenzied and violent. I stood there staring, horrified, but against my better judgment, I let her continue. She was making no progress, but I sensed she needed some kind of outlet.

I watched the brutality for as long as I could stand before walking up behind her and taking her wrist in my hand. Her erratic motions stilled. Her gaze met mine in the mirror and for a second she looked embarrassed, then instantly—finally—her eyes filled with tears. "You don't have any conditioner in your shower," she whispered in explanation.

"I'm sorry," I said to her reflection, apologizing for a million different reasons.

I tried to pry the hairbrush out of her clenched fist as tears spilled down her cheeks. "I have to brush it!" she choked out.

"I know, baby," I murmured. She was holding on to the hair brush like it was a lifeline, as if tangled hair was the greatest tragedy we had to face, and I realized how unproductive the situation was. I gave up fighting her for the brush and grasped her shoulders instead, turning her so we were face to face. Tears keep falling as she tried to focus on me. Suddenly, I wanted to cry myself. Instead, I took her free hand. "Come with me?"

I grabbed a towel and led her back to my room. Shutting the door behind us, I wondered vaguely if Esme had woken to any of the sounds we'd made. I sat Bella down on my bed and took a seat behind her. The water in her hair had left a wet spot across the back of her shirt. I used the towel to squeeze the rest of it out while her tears slowed and then subsided.

"Can I have the brush, Bella?" Without saying anything, she passed it over her shoulder. I began to brush through her hair, using my fingers when necessary, smoothing out tangle after tangle, knot after knot. It took forever to comb through and at one point I was so wrapped up in my task I forgot our circumstances and mumbled, "Jesus, Bella, how do you deal with this every morning?"

She turned her head and offered me a small, courteous smile. "I have conditioner in my shower."

I felt like an asshole, but then she brought her hand out to rest on the leg I'd stretched out alongside her. Her immediate forgiveness of my lack of tact made me feel a little better.

When I finished, her hair was as smooth and silky as usual. I ran my hand over it, feeling the smallest sense of accomplishment at making myself useful. "Bella? Your shirt's wet from your hair. Do you want a different one?"

She was quiet for a second before asking, "Can I have yours?"

I misunderstood. "Yeah, which one?"

"The one you're wearing now?"

"Wouldn't you rather a clean shirt? I've been wearing this one all day."

She traced over the threads of my quilt with her fingertip. "I know. It smells like you."

I yanked my shirt over my head and passed it to her as she pulled her wet one off and tossed it toward my hamper. I stole a look at her bare back before she slipped my shirt over her head; there were angry red abrasions along her spine. I'm not sure what it was about that particular visual, but my stomach lurched. I swallowed to keep the vomit that instantly rose in my throat down.

"Will you be okay here for a minute?" I asked before I lost my tiny shred of control.

As soon as she nodded I was off the bed and in the bathroom, leaning over the toilet, trying to be as quiet as possible as my stomach emptied itself. It was over almost as quickly as it started, but I stayed on the floor for a few minutes, trying to control my irregular breaths and gain a little composure. When I felt better, I washed my face and brushed my teeth, anxious to get back to my bedroom.

She was sitting in the exact same spot, staring at my blank television screen. She focused on me as I crossed her line of vision. "Are you okay?"

I sighed, embarrassed. "I'm fine now." I found a clean shirt and some sweats and pulled them on, then knelt down in front of her and took her hand. "What about you? What do you want to do? I could put on a movie, or we can talk if you want, or we can go to sleep."

"Let's try to sleep," she said, running her warm hand over my cheek. "I have to get up for school in a few hours."

My eyes went wide with surprise. "We're not going to school tomorrow."

"But I have a Civics test."

"Who cares? You'll make it up next week. I'll have my mom call in tomorrow morning so we're excused."

"I can't afford to miss school, Edward. I can't let my grades slip."

"Your grades won't slip because of a few days. You need time to... " To what? Get better? Recover? I couldn't seem to get a grip on the right words.

She gazed up at me with childlike innocence, like she was counting on me to make the right choices for her. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, of course. My mom won't care." I felt bad about pressuring her, as if she hadn't had it rough enough already, but school was the last place she needed be. I wanted her with me, where she wouldn't be out of my sight. I squeezed her hand, hoping this wouldn't turn into an argument. "Please?"

She nodded. "Okay."

I was glad she agreed, but I wasn't okay with how fast I'd convinced her. Any other day she would've argued her side until she was blue in the face. Her quick submission made me worry she'd lost all her fight. It was as if she was too defeated to bother.

She moved aside so I could pull back the sheet, then crawled under the covers, moving all the way over to the wall. I flipped the light switch and joined her, a safe distance away. It felt unnatural, the space between us, but I was afraid to get too close. Instead, I searched for her hand under the blankets and threaded our fingers together.

"Edward?" she whispered once we were settled.

"Yeah?"

"You won't go anywhere tonight, will you? Down to the couch or to the guest room?"

"Not if you don't want me to."

"I don't." She let go of my hand. I watched her silhouette sit up in the darkness. She sounded heartbreakingly uncertain when she asked, "Can I lay closer to you?"

I opened my arms, sorry I'd made her think she had to ask. She nestled against me and I held her tight. We lay together for a long time, but her breathing never evened out, her muscles never completely relaxed. I stroked her hair, trying to help her fall asleep. After a long while she whispered, "Thank you for taking care of me tonight."

I couldn't reply right away. The guilt was far too suffocating.

I hadn't taken care of her. I was partly responsible for the nightmare we'd been plunged into. My greatest fear, the most horrible thing imaginable, had become a reality and I'd been powerless to stop it. It was a desperate, remorseful feeling, one that was eating away at me from the inside out. I would have given anything to go back in time to change things.

Once I got started on that train of thought, I couldn't get off. I'd made a million mistakes: asking Bella to come to my game, letting her drive home alone, waiting around at Fork's too long. Hell, I could have called the police weeks ago when I'd first learned about Riley. I'd never forgive myself for the errors in judgment I'd made.

"I'm so sorry." My voice was shaky as I spoke into her hair so I dropped to a whisper. "I wish I could make it all go away."

###

A few hours after we'd fallen asleep, I had one of those bizarre experiences where you wake up knowing something's wrong but you can't immediately place what it is. All I was aware of was my heart beating too fast in my chest and sweat coating my face and neck. Anxiety had settled in the pit of my stomach like a ten pound weight. I opened my eyes. The beginning light of dawn permeated my window shades, casting cool, gray shadows around the room. I saw nothing but my bedroom wall and stretched my legs along the length of the mattress. My joints creaked audibly. A dull throbbing pulsated in my right hand.

It all came flooding back—Bella's phone call, the sight of her, bruised and bloodied, the hospital, her tears…

I sat up and flipped over in one quick movement. She was sitting in my desk chair, legs pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped protectively around them. Her dark hair surrounded her face like curtain. She was watching me with a serene look. I wondered how long she'd been awake, if she'd slept at all.

Instinct told me it would make her uncomfortable, but I let my gaze travel over her face anyway. It was hard not to wince at the sight of her split lip, the bruises along her jaw and neck. She had shadows under her eyes, a clue as to how little sleep she must've gotten. She was too pale and fragile, her little body curled up in that chair. The sight of her shredded my heart.

My eyes met hers again and, unbelievably, she offered me a small smile. I returned it, but the look in her eyes shook me to my core. They were empty; not frightened or angry or shocked, all of the things I knew she had to be—all the things I was.

But above all, I was sad, so heart wrenchingly sad I could feel it in my head and my bones and my heart. I wasn't sure I'd be able hold it together long enough to maintain our eye contact.

I scooted toward the wall and lay on her pillow, opening my arms in a silent invitation. She looked at me for a few seconds before getting up, flinching slightly as her body slid across the wooden chair. She walked deliberately and the sight of her physical pain was almost too much to bear. I waited patiently as she sat down on the edge of my bed, my arms still open, until she all but collapsed into me.

I gathered her against me, holding her as gently as possible. She slipped her arms around my waist and buried her face against my chest like she couldn't get close enough.

She started to cry in earnest, sobs that shook her body, tears that left hot, wet blotches on the front of my shirt. It was nothing like the silent stream of tears from the night before and it terrified me. I'd never seen her so upset, never imagined I would. I ran my hand over her hair, awkwardly smoothing it over and over, the only motion I could manage from my position.

We stayed like that for a long time, until she wore herself out and fell asleep in my arms. When her breathing was deep and constant, I moved away, careful not to disturb her. She didn't stir while I tucked the sheet and quilt around her and kissed her forehead. I scribbled a quick note on a scrap of paper, explaining that I was in the kitchen and left it on my pillow before sneaking out of the room, closing the door behind me.

My mother looked up from her newspaper when I walked into the kitchen. The sun was up, shining cheerfully through the windows, but it was still early. She glanced at the clock, clearly surprised to see me up at the crack of dawn. Even Maggie, curled up on the rug, looked confused. She wagged her tail anyway, a rhythmic thumping against the hardwood floor.

"Coffee?" my mom asked, eyeing me curiously.

"Yeah, please."

She got up and poured me a mug full, setting the sugar bowl and a spoon down in front of me along with my drink. I heaped a teaspoon of sugar into the mug and inhaled the steam as I stirred.

She sat down across from me. "Is Bella here?"

"Yeah, she's sleeping."

"What happened to staying at her house last night?"

I remembered with a wave of regret what last night was supposed to be— romantic and fun and easy, Bella and me taking advantage of the empty house while her parents were away. "Change of plans," I said without elaboration.

"Hmm. Is she going to have enough time to get ready for school?"

"She's not going to school." I tried to guess how much my mom might've heard. I had no idea how to explain to her what happened—I wasn't even sure I was capable of saying the words aloud. "I'm not going either," I told her.

"Okay…" she said, drawing it out. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

I took a long sip of coffee, trying to clear my sleep-deprived mind. "There was an incident last night—an emergency, I guess—and I had to take Bella to the hospital."

My mom's expression went from confusion to alarm in half a second. Esme and Bella had become close quickly. The list of things they had in common was endless. They both loved flowers and baking. They were both artistic and freakishly neat. Neither was capable of tolerating bullshit. "Is she okay?" my mom asked.

"No. Not really." I felt the intense pain flow through me again. I took another long drink from my mug, hoping the scalding coffee would mask the ache in my chest.

"What happened?"

I sighed, deliberating. "I can't say, not until I talk to her."

She studied me from across the table, her hazel eyes tight with concern. "You're not giving me much to work with here, Edward. There was an emergency, you took her to the hospital, she can't go to school today, but she was well enough that they released her from the hospital… you can't tell me anything more?"

"No. Can you call the school and tell them we'll be out?"

"I suppose, but shouldn't Bella's mother call for her?"

"Her parents are out of town until Saturday, remember? She's going to stay here until they get back."

She stared at me, her expression solemn. I was pretty sure she was trying to figure out why Bella and I would opt to stay with her instead of the Swan's empty house. "Do her parents know about this… emergency?"

"Not yet, but they will."

In truth, I had no idea if she planned to tell them, but intuition told me my mom would be on the phone with Renee in a matter of seconds if I didn't reassure her.

Her face was full of bewilderment and worry as she gave me another long look. I could tell she was hoping I'd say more, give her some clue as to what all of the mysterious drama was about.

Finally, she sighed. "Do you want something to eat? I can fix you some pancakes, or maybe eggs?" It was so like my mother to try to fix things with food. Even though I couldn't imagine eating, I was thankful for the tiny slice of normalcy.

"No, thanks. I'm not hungry."

"I have to go get ready for work. We've got a big shipment coming in today."

"Hmm…" I drank more coffee, gazing past her head at the celery-colored wall.

She must've realized she wasn't going to get anymore out of me, at least for the time being, because she headed upstairs to shower.

**Thanks for reading. I'd love to know what you think…**

Also, a book recommendation: STOLEN, by Lucy Christopher, about a girl who's kidnapped by a delusional man and taken to the Austrailian Outback. I've never been so torn at the end of a book. Amazing, amazing, amazing. 


	15. Fifteen

**Welcome to all of the new followers to this story! I hope you'll let me know what you think when you finish reading. :)**

As usual, please be advised that this is a story about rape, it's effects on a high school relationship, and the beginning steps of recovery for both the victim and her significant other. I have already written this story in its entirety and can assure you that there are no scenes of gratuitous violence or graphic sexual assault. The topic of sexual assault is handled realistically, but with upmost sensitivity. Still, if rape is a topic that is especially upsetting to you, you might want to read another story. 

**All Twilight references belong to Stephenie Meyer. Original material belongs to this author.**

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

**Bella**

I woke up disoriented and petrified, alone in Edward's bed. Snippets of a terrifying dream were still sneaking around in my head. My heart thudded while I grappled at the sheet, trying to untwist it from my legs. A panicked scream was building in my throat. I was alone and vulnerable, just the way I'd been the night before when Riley pounded on my front door.

Then Edward's voice floated up the stairs from the kitchen.

I flew out of the bed and found a baggy sweatshirt in his closet. I yanked it on, gathering the hood up around my neck to hide the hideous bruises. My hair was a wreck since I'd slept on it wet, but I quickly ran Edward's little brush through it. My goal, even with my receding panic, was to appear as normal as possible. I knew I'd have to face Esme.

Normal. I felt anything but.

I hurried down the stairs, headed for his voice, knowing he'd bring comfort.

They both looked up, startled, when I walked into the kitchen. Esme was visibly distressed by my appearance, but she pulled it together quickly, arranging her face into an agreeably neutral expression. Then she put down the piece of bread she'd been slathering mustard on and walked toward me, enveloping me in a motherly hug that made me wish, once again, that my own mother was there.

"Oh, honey, are you okay?"

I hugged her back, breathing in her soft baby powder scent, and threw Edward a questioning glance over her shoulder. _Does she know?_

He shook his head. _No_, he mouthed.

"I'm okay, Esme, thank you."

She ended the hug after a few seconds, but left her hands on my shoulders, looking me over again. "Is there anything I can do? Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you," I said, surprised at the ease with which I was able to fake polite composure. "Is it okay if I hang out here today?"

"Of course, sweetie, you'll stay here until your parents are back in town." I hated to impose, especially on these kind people who hadn't asked to be part of my problems, but it was a good feeling to know that I had a place to stay until my parents got home.

After a final pat on the back, Esme went back to making her sandwich. I walked behind Edward, running my hand along his shoulders as I passed, and sat down in the chair next to him. He pushed his half-full coffee mug toward me, his eyes full of sympathy. I gave him a thankful smile before taking a sip. Apparently Esme splurged on coffee; it was good, dark and strong with lots of sugar.

Edward took my hand when I finished, first fishing it out of the too-long sleeves of his sweatshirt. "Did you sleep okay?"

"You said you wouldn't leave me," I murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, squeezing my hand. "I thought you'd sleep better if I gave you space."

I shook my head sort of frantically, needing him to know the opposite was true. I'd never be better off without him.

His mom continued to fiddle with pretzels, carrot sticks and little Ziploc baggies over by the sink. I was becoming exceedingly aware of her presence. As sweet and generous as she was, I wanted her to go to work already. Every time her eyes landed on me I felt curiosity and worry burn into my skin like acid. Her concern made me uneasy, the same feeling I'd had in the waiting room at the hospital the night before.

"Do you want anything to eat?" Edward asked, talking to me, but looking at his mother. Her head was tilted not so inconspicuously toward us.

"No, thanks. Maybe later."

"Let's sit in the living room. We'll take the coffee."

I nodded. He took his mug back and got me a fresh one, adding a heaping teaspoon of sugar before leading the way to the living room. He sunk down on the couch, leaving me plenty of room. I sat next to him, carefully folding my legs under. I held my mug in both hands, warming them, then took a long sip.

"Come here?" he asked, holding his arms open.

I blinked, overcome. What Riley had done the night before, what I'd been forced to do… it made me uncomfortable in my skin. Sick to my stomach with disgust and shame. The knowledge that Edward still wanted me close—that he wanted anything to do with me at all—was almost too much. Before the emotion that welled up in my chest could bubble over, I set my mug on the floor below us. Leaning into him, I rested my head on his chest, absorbing the steady _thump thump_ _thumping _of his heart until my own matched its cadence. "I love the sound of your heart," I whispered.

He kissed my hair. "I love you."

"Can we stay like this all day?"

"We can do whatever you want." He reached back for the afghan folded across the back of the couch and spread it over us, tucking the loose ends around me until I was warm and secure.

There was nothing to say, so we just sat. I played with his hand, tickling his wrist, tracing the lines on his rough palms, winding my fingers through his, all the while trying to clear my head of the craziness.

After awhile, his mom poked her head into the living room. I'm sure we were a sight, both still in the clothes we'd slept in, all melancholy and anguished. She looked less than thrilled about leaving us alone for the day. "I have to get to work. Will you two be all right?"

"We'll be fine," Edward answered brusquely.

"You'll call if you need anything?"

"Yes, Esme. Thanks for everything," I said, trying to make up for her son's terseness. I gave her a smile, my tried and true everything's-fine-lets-drop-it smile. It worked just as well on her as it did on Edward. She left through the front door without another word.

Once we were alone, he brushed my hair back over my shoulders, exposing more than I was comfortable with. The look he gave me was long and critical. "How are you?"

"Fine," I said, my answer automatic and totally dishonest. His disappointment was obvious so I took a deep breath and went on. "I can barely feel it, Edward. It's all just in my head, like a movie."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. I'd like to pretend it didn't happen."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

I shrugged, focused on the bookshelf behind him. "I don't really care. I'd rather be numb."

"I wish there was something I could do, Bella."

He was doing everything, just like usual. He was making life survivable. Without him… if I hadn't had him to turn to, to take care of me, I wasn't sure what I would have done.

"Knowing I'm safe with you, that's all I need right now," I said quietly.

"You can stay here as long as you want. Even when your parents get back… if you don't want to be at home, you can always stay here."

It was a tempting offer. The idea of sleeping at home was sickening, but I'd have to. I couldn't very well move in with the Masens. "I can't impose myself on you and your mom that way. As soon as my parents get back I'll go home. I just can't stay in that house alone."

"Whatever you want, but know it's not an imposition. My mom's fine with you being here and I always want you around."

"What did you tell her? She looked horrified when I walked into the kitchen."

He swallowed, stalling. "I told her there was an incident and that we went to the hospital. I think she's under the impression that you're sick. Is that okay?"

I scooped my hair up and brought it forward, letting it fall against my cheeks, hiding behind it. "I suppose you had to tell her something."

"What are you going to tell your parents?"

I closed my eyes for a long time, trying to summon some strength. "I'm not sure. I guess I _have_ to tell them, right? I mean, I went to the hospital and used my dad's insurance card. Won't they find out anyway?"

He wavered for a second, like he wasn't sure. "Yeah, I think they'll find out eventually. Will you tell them Saturday?"

I shook my head, my eyes filling with tears that burned. "It's going to be the worst part of all this." It would kill them. My father, who'd done everything in his power to protect me and my mother, who hadn't even wanted to go to Memphis in the first place. What would I say to them? How would I ever get the words out?

Edward held my hand between both of his. "I'll help you, if you want."

I wiped my cheeks with my fingertips. "You'd do that?"

"I'll do anything that makes this easier for you."

He tugged me closer, fitting me next to his side. His lips pressed into my hair, his warm hands trailed up my back and over my arms. His compassion made me cry harder, ugly, unrestrained sobs that would have been mortifying in any other situation. Eventually I exhausted myself and fell asleep across his lap.

###

My dream was explicit down to the last detail. Riley's pale eyes, hard as steel, piercing as he stood over me. The soft clanking of a belt buckle, then the whisper of leather moving swiftly over denim. My shoulder blades pushing against the marble floor as he held me down. He smelled like stale cigarettes and the woods after rain, cool and musty. He was heavy, his weight forcing the air from my lungs while I struggled beneath him.

"Hold still," he hissed, his breath hot and moist on my neck.

In my dream I screamed, just as I had the night before, but this time there was no sound. No pleas, no bargains, no prayers. My lips moved, but no words came from my throat. The only noises were my strangled, indecipherable cries and his heavy breathing.

**In case you're concerned, those last few paragraphs are as graphic and violent as this will ever get. Thank you for reading and reviewing. **


	16. Sixteen

**As always, Please be advised that this is a story about rape, it's effects on a high school relationship, and the beginning steps of recovery for both the victim and her significant other. I have already written this story in its entirety (I will update weekly) and can assure you that there are no scenes of gratuitous violence or graphic sexual assault. The topic of sexual assault is handled realistically, but with upmost sensitivity. Still, if rape is a topic that is especially upsetting to you, you might want to read another story. **

**All Twilight references belong to Stephenie Meyer. Original material belongs to this author.**

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Edward

Her shriek nearly stopped my heart. I scooped her up, forgetting all about the episode of Sports Center I'd been watching. I held tightly until while her panting slowed, until she was fully awake and the sweat had cooled on her skin.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice muffled against my chest.

"You were dreaming." I wanted to tell her she'd scared the shit out of me, but she didn't seem to realize she'd screamed loud enough to worry the neighbors.

"I'm sorry," she said, still sounding dazed.

"You don't remember?"

She backed off enough that I could see her face and the way her eyebrows narrowed as she thought. "I remember my dream," she answered, a shudder ripping through her. She was grasping at the afghan, her fingers tangled in the weave. "I'm glad I woke up."

I reached toward her, sliding my hand under her hair to her neck. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know…" she trailed off shaking her head. "My heart is pounding."

I took her hand and put it against my chest. "So is mine."

She smiled half-heartedly and moved her hand to my cheek.

I nuzzled my nose into her thick hair, wondering what it would take to calm her down. And then I remembered bad dreams of my own, years ago, and an idea began to form in my head. "Do you want to tell me about your dream?" I whispered.

"No," she replied without a moment of thought.

Not the answer I'd been hoping for. I tried a new tactic. "You know, nobody knows this except my mom, but for about a year after my father died, I had nightmares all the time."

"What about?" she asked in a small voice.

"Car accidents, mostly."

"Were they scary?"

"Yeah, very. I used to conjure up some pretty freaky images while I was asleep. My dreams would wake my mom up and she would ask me to tell her all about them. She insisted that if I got the dream out of my head and out in the open it wouldn't be so scary anymore."

"Did that work?"

"Kind of… I mean, I was ten so I was kind of gullible. It was more mind over matter than anything else."

"Hmm… get it out in the open?" Bella repeated, her hand finding mine. "I guess that makes sense… my dream was scary."

"I figured," I said gently. I wanted her to tell me, to get it off her chest. It was so unfair that she was going through it by herself.

"It was about last night… but you probably already knew that too."

"That seemed to be a safe assumption."

"I kept trying to scream for help, but no sound would come out." She stopped, waiting for my reaction, but I stayed quiet, waiting for her to continue. "Every time I fall asleep I dream about it."

"It won't be like that forever," I said. "You'll start to feel better eventually."

"How long did it take for you to feel better after your dad died?"

"I don't know… awhile. I'm not going to lie to you, Bella. I'm not the same person I would have been if he hadn't died. Things never went back to normal, but I adjusted and eventually there was a new normal."

"But I don't want a new normal," she whispered.

"I know, baby, neither do I."

"I _hate_ him."

"Me too."

I brought my hands up to rub her tight shoulders, to massage the tension out of her muscles. Her arms went around her torso like she was holding herself together, but in time her breathing calmed. She laid her head against my shoulder.

"This is hard for you too, isn't it?" she asked, barely a whisper.

I hesitated, not wanting to admit to weakness, but I couldn't lie to her. "Yeah."

"I've been so consumed by what happened to me, I haven't thought about what you're going through. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. I'll be fine. More than anything, it's hard for me to see you hurting." _That and the guilt_, I thought bitterly.

"Thank you for being here for me, Edward."

"Where else would I be?"

She angled her head to look at me, her bright eyes penetrating mine. "You wanted to go after him last night, didn't you?"

"How did you know?" I asked evenly. I'd thought I'd buried my fury pretty well, considering.

She shrugged. "I'm right, aren't I?"

I closed my eyes and breathed, praying for composure. I couldn't let my anger scare her. "You're partly right… I _still_ want to go after him."

"You know that won't fix anything, right?" Her tone was calm, gentle, as I tried to pinpoint where our conversation had turned. How was it that she was suddenly the reasonable one trying to talk me down?

"I don't care. I want to kill him."

"But you can't," she said simply.

"Why not?"  
"Because _I_ need you. You won't leave me, will you?"

She was shamelessly using what she could to talk some sense in to me. It was working. "I'll be here as long as you want me, Bella."

"Promise you won't do anything reckless. If you do something to Riley, it'll be my fault."

"No, it'll be _his_ fault."

"That's not true. If there's something I can do to stop you and I don't, then it will be me who's responsible."

I sighed, torn. I wanted to argue, to explain my anger, to talk her into going to the police, but she felt so frail in my arms and her tears were coming and going so abruptly. I wasn't about to fight with her. "I'll stay away from him, but only because you're asking me to."

We ventured out of the house later, still in sweats. Our first stop was Bella's house to pick up a few days worth of clothing. She asked me pull around to the back, then punched the code into the keypad so we could use the garage door. We used the back staircase to get to her bedroom, staying completely clear of the foyer. We were in and out in a matter of minutes.

She shocked me by breaking into a fit of uncontrollable giggles when we were back in my Volvo on the way to pick up fast food. For a second, I thought the shock might've caught up with her and pushed her right over the edge to hysteria. When at last she got herself back in control, she pulled a bottle of conditioner out of her duffle bag and showed it to me.  
"Now you won't have to brush my hair out for me," she explained.  
I rolled my eyes accordingly, but I was so happy to hear her laugh that I almost drove off the road. "I thought I did a pretty good job," I said smoothing my free hand over her hair.

"You did, Edward," she said, always gracious.

When we got back to my house we tried to eat, but most of our lunch ended up getting tossed to Ruby, who snatched it midair with many grateful snaps of her jaw. Bella smiled while she watched, which in turn made me feel better about ignoring the fact that she probably hadn't eaten anything since lunch the day before.

We spent the better part of the afternoon lounging on the living room couch, pretending to watch movies. We barely spoke, just curled up under the afghan even though it was well over seventy degrees outside. My mother called twice. Both times I told her we were fine and hung up as quick as possible. Sometime after school let out my phone rang again. A quick glance at the display told me it was Alice. I shut my phone off then because I had no desire to talk to her or anyone else.

Late in the afternoon I convinced Bella to call her parents in Memphis to check in. She told her mother she'd be busy at Rosalie's house working on a Spanish project and that she'd see them at home on Saturday. Then she turned her phone off too.

My mom came in the front door around dinnertime. We were still on the couch, almost finished with our third movie. She must've headed straight to the kitchen to make dinner because we never saw her. It was hard to determine whether she was giving us privacy or if she was pissed because my phone had been turned off most of the afternoon.

By the time the credits rolled on the screen I was feeling pretty shitty. I was drained, worried as hell and I hadn't even had a shower yet. I clicked off the TV. "I'm going to go get cleaned up. Do you want to come up to my room and wait for me?"

A flash of fear crossed her face before she collected herself. "Alone?"

"I'll just be in the bathroom. It'll only take me a few minutes," I promised, letting the guilt take hold again. I hadn't left her side since early morning.

She shook her head. "Maybe I could hang out your mom?"

"Yeah, if that's what you want."

My mom was bustling around the kitchen, stirring something in a pot on the stove, chopping onions on a cutting board. Her face lit up when she saw us.

"What are you making?"

"Enchiladas."

"Would you like some help, Esme?" Bella moved to the sink to wash her hands before my mom had the chance to say no.

She gave me an inquisitive look. I nodded, hoping she'd give Bella a job that would keep her occupied. "Sure, sweetie. You can either grate the cheese or set the table. You choose."

"I can do both," Bella said, drying her hands with a paper towel.

I kissed her cheek. "I'll be right back."

Upstairs, I took the quickest shower of my life, then threw on clean clothes and descended the stairs.

Bella was setting the table, seemingly more worn out than when I'd left her. She looked up, briefly startled as I came thudding into the room. Relief washed over her face when our eyes met. My mother, oblivious to Bella's moment of alarm, pulled a casserole dish filled with enchiladas out of the oven. They smelled good and I realized how hungry I was.

The three of us sat down at the table. I served Bella, heaping her plate with an enchilada, Spanish rice and refried beans. She gave me a funny look as I set it down in front of her, then she proceeded to pick at it, pushing the food around, taking a small bite here and there when she noticed me watching.

Dinner was quiet until my mother rocked the boat. "Bella, do you feel up to going to school tomorrow or do you need me to call in for you again?"

"Um, I'd rather not go. If you wouldn't mind calling, I'd appreciate it. Or I could call my mom and ask her to do it if it's any trouble."

"No, I don't mind. I've already scheduled a day off for Edward's game, so I'd be happy to stay here with you, if you'd like."

"_I'm_ staying with her," I cut in before Bella had a chance to answer.

"You know you have to be at school to be eligible to play ball," my mom said.

I hadn't missed a game since my sophomore year when I'd come down with tonsillitis. "I don't care about my game. I'm staying here."

"Edward—" Bella began, but I put my hand up to quiet her.

"The season's almost over, school's almost out, and none of it matters," I said to my mom. "Bella needs me. She's what's important to me."

My mom was clearly torn. She hated to tell me what to do. "Be reasonable, honey. You have a commitment to your team."  
"Fuck the team."

She stared at me in shock. I'd never spoken to her that way, never even raised my voice at her. She moved like she was going to say something more, then closed her mouth and folded her hands under her chin.

"Edward. Go to school. Go to your game," Bella said, the reluctant voice of reason. "I'm not going to be a burden. I'm not going to make you miss out on something important. I'll be fine here with your mom."

"Bella, please—" I started.

She interrupted me in a tone stronger than anything I'd heard out of her all day. "No. Tell me you'll go to school tomorrow _and_ play in your game or I'll go back to my house right now."

I gaped at her. I hated ultimatums, but I wouldn't let her go back to her house alone and she knew it. "Fine," I snapped, annoyed that the two of them had ganged up on me and furious with my mother for bringing school up in the first place.

Dinner was pretty much over after that. The awkward tension didn't fade and after a few minutes of the three of us looking anywhere but at each other, I started clearing the table.

Bella and I headed for my room as soon as the kitchen was clean. I sat outside the bathroom while she showered, then brushed her hair out on my bed once she was dressed. It was silent in my bedroom as I worked through her conditioned hair with the huge brush she'd brought from home. Truth be told, I was a little upset with her for siding with my mom at the dinner table. It felt like a betrayal after everything we'd been through. The thought of sitting through the charade of school, then trying to play baseball while she sat at home with my prying mother was enough to make me see red.

We got into bed early. Even though I felt slighted, I rolled over and gathered her up in my arms, burying my face in her hair. She nestled into my neck and sighed.

"I thought you were mad at me," she whispered, her breath tickling my skin.

"No… I'm not mad." I tightened my arms around her, guilty again. I'd made her worry about a trivial argument when she already had so much to deal with.  
"You were mad at dinner. You haven't spoken to me since."

"I'm disappointed. It should be me taking care of you tomorrow."

"I'll be okay. You can't ditch your whole life because of me."

"I hate that I won't be here."

"You will. You'll be home at lunch, then tomorrow night you'll tell me about school and your game and our friends. Everything will be fine." She paused and I felt her smile against my neck. "Your mom and I need some bonding time anyway."

I snorted. "How can you joke?"

"I don't know. If I don't laugh, I'll cry and I'm tired of doing that."

"I'm sorry I made you think I was mad."

"You're already forgiven. I'm sorry I ordered you around in front of your mom."

"Don't worry about it. She was probably thrilled to hear you put me in my place when she couldn't."

I felt her smile again. I listened to her quiet breaths, hoping they'd level out, but even after a long time I knew she was still awake.

"Bella, how are you feeling?"

She was quiet for a pause, editing in her head, which frustrated me. "I feel okay… sort of sore, you know?"

I didn't. _Sore. _My blood went white hot in my veins and I clamped my mouth shut, choking back the frenzied rage that boiled within. I don't know what I'd been thinking, asking her how she was feeling, but bed time was clearly the worst possible time for discussing the side effects of rape.

"Try to sleep, okay?" I said, hoping at least one of us would be able to. "I promise I won't leave you. You'll be safe."

Tilting her head up, she found my cheek and kissed me softly, easing my anger with the familiar comfort her kisses always brought. "I know I'm safe with you, Edward."

School was exactly the nightmare I knew it would be. I sat in my Volvo until right before the first bell eating the breakfast I'd brought from home. I turned my phone back on while I ate and listened to nine voicemails, mostly from Alice, but also one each from both Jasper and Emmett. They all wanted to know what had happened, where Bella and I were, if we were okay, when we'd be back at school… the questions were endless. A small part of me appreciated their concern, but I was angry with them too. I held them—and Rosalie—partly responsible for what happened to Bella.

I wasn't entirely unreasonable though. I only projected a little of the blame onto them. Most of it sat right where it belonged—in the pit of my stomach.

First period dragged on longer than usual. I didn't even attempt to concentrate on the lecture. I didn't to bother suit up for gym second period, either. Instead, I slouched on the bleachers while Coach Cullen led a warm-up. He must've known something was up because he got the class started on circuit exercises and came over to sit next to me, quietly flipping through his clipboard. Though he'd never expressed out loud, I knew I was one of his favorite players. It was weird to have something so life-alteringly heavy on my mind and not be able to express it to a man who'd been like a father to me for the last four years.

"We missed you at practice yesterday, Masen. You okay?"

"Yeah, something came up."

"Your mother called," he said, his gray eyes focused on a group of jump-ropers. "She thinks something serious is going on with you."

"My girlfriend's sick."

He eyed me skeptically; he had very little tolerance for distractions during the season. "And?"

"And she needed my help," I said, irritated.

"Is there anything you need _my_ help with?"

"No, it'll be fine."

"All right." He stood up and blew his whistle, signaling that the class should rotate. He turned to look at me again, his face creased with concern. "Let me know if there's anything you need, Edward… anything at all."

He walked away, leaving me confused. It was a relief that he didn't push me to talk—he was obviously glad to see me at school and eligible to play baseball—but he usually didn't get involved in our personal lives. Something about our talk was weird.

The rest of the morning was a lost cause, a waste of time like I'd known it would be. It wasn't even that I was preoccupied with Bella, although she did drift through my mind frequently. More than anything, I felt unmotivated, numb to what was going on around me. It all seemed so insignificant.

I'd been dreading Chemistry all morning. I took the long route to the science building during passing period, avoiding an inevitable talk with Jasper and Alice in the few minutes before class started. When I wandered into the room, they were both there, talking quietly as usual. Alice, for once, wasn't perched on my stool; rather, she was turned on her own facing Jasper and the door. She spotted me right away, offering me a hesitant smile as I made my way to the table. I gave her a look I meant to be sharp and discouraging, but felt lethargic and sad. I sat and glance at the wall clock, willing the bell to ring, praying Mr. Barlow had something for us to do that was individual and required a lot of concentration.

He failed me, assigning a chapter to read and review questions to complete with our lab partners. I completed the reading, skimming over the words without comprehending them, then went back to the beginning to try again when I noticed Jasper was nowhere near done.

He must've known something serious was up because he didn't attempt small talk. When we started to work on the review questions, he barely looked at me.

Alice must've known too. She did, after all, have a sixth sense for anything dramatic. She worked quietly with her own partner, never once turning to face Jasper and me. Even after she finished her class work—always a prime time for gossip—she pulled her history text out of her bag and read for the remainder of the period.

It was so completely out of character for the two of them to mind their own business. Any other day Alice would have practically jumped me for information and then Jazz would have been ready with unsolicited advice. Although I appreciated their quiet respect of my boundaries, it made me wonder if they already knew something.

I was up and out of my seat when the lunch bell rang, eager to get home. Alice and Jasper followed me out the door like shadows. I heard her say, "I'll meet you at your car," to Jasper, then call out through the crowded hallway, "Edward!"

I kept walking, ignoring her, hoping in vain she'd give up. She didn't. I suppressed a groan as her hasty footsteps gained on me. She grabbed my arm and I yanked it back.

"Edward, please!" she said, too loud. We'd stopped walking and others were stopping too, watching us, trying to figure out what was going on. Alice stared at me, pleading with wide eyes. "Please. I need to talk to you."

"Not now." It felt strange to speak so harshly to my friend, but I was getting used to it. My mom the night before, now Alice. I walked away from her and the gathering audience.

"Why not?" she practically shouted. Then she was at my side again, taking two steps for every one of mine.

"Because, I can't."

"But I know something's wrong!"

"You don't know anything," I snapped, shoving the door open and stepping out into the courtyard. It was teeming with people on their way to lunch. I had to stop every few steps to let someone cross my path and every time I did, Alice caught up.

"Will you at least tell me if you're okay?" she asked as we weaved around a group of people who were laughing like hyenas.

"I'm fine," I said, pulling ahead again as we cleared the crowd.

"What about Bella?" she asked.

I stopped and spun around on the sidewalk. She skidded to a stop right in front of me. "What about Bella?" I asked in a tight voice.

She looked like she was going to cry. "Is _she_ okay?"

I sighed, confused and exasperated. "She's fine too," I said, working to speak gentler. I couldn't stomach the thought of Alice crying in front of me.

"Edward, what happened the other night?" There were definitely tears in her eyes.

"I can't… I can't talk to you about this, Alice. Not now."

She looked at me for what felt like a very long time, then threw her arms around my neck, squeezing tighter than I would've thought her little body capable of. "I'm sorry, Edward, about whatever it is. Call me if you need me."

I hugged her back, feeling drained. All at once I wished I _could_ talk to her. I could trust her, that was a given, but I couldn't betray Bella's confidence.

I kissed her cheek and released her. "I have to go."

She gave me a cheerless smile, full of unspoken uncertainties. For a second I hoped she'd argue, tell me I was guarded and stupid and selfish. Then I could either yell at her and unleash some anger or tell her everything and fine some reassurance in my friend. Instead, without another word, she turned and hurried toward where Ben was waiting. Leave it to Alice to not push me on the one day I needed her to.

By the time I'd pulled into the driveway at home, I'd worked myself into a ball of unnecessary nerves. Bella was curled up on the couch under an afghan, fast asleep. Ruby was lying on the rug below her and peeked at me through heavy lids when she heard me approaching. Her tail thudded against the floorboards and I hushed her weakly, half wanting her to wake Bella. I gave Ruby's head a pat, kissed Bella's cheek and then waited to see if she'd wake up. When after a few minutes she was still asleep, her lips slightly parted and her hands clutching the afghan around her, I gave up and made my way to the kitchen.

My mother was there, scrubbing the sink in faded jeans and an older version of her regular button down shirt. She pointed toward the table where there was a plate loaded with a turkey sandwich, a pile of potato chips, and a couple of pickles. I raised my eyebrows in surprise—lunch was unexpected—but I didn't say anything.

I took a few bites of the sandwich, trying to figure out her motivation. She'd been downright frosty at breakfast and I'd done nothing to earn her forgiveness. I didn't have to wait long for an explanation. She joined me at the table after a few minutes, eyeing me cautiously from her seat.

"Thanks for lunch," I said.

"You're welcome."

"Why'd you call my baseball coach?"

Her eyes shifted around the kitchen. "I—um… I knew you'd be missing practice. I thought I'd let him know you were okay."

"The office would've told him. He thinks there's something wrong now. He wanted to talk about it during Gym today. It was weird."

She didn't respond, instead she straightened the salt and pepper shakers that sat in the middle of the table. There was a long pause—too long. Something was different. The change in the air was palpable.

"Edward… I'm sorry about last night," she finally said. "I shouldn't have butted in."

I swallowed a bite. "It doesn't matter now."

"Yes, it does."

I put my sandwich down. "Why? Last night you didn't care."

"No, I guess I didn't, but I feel differently now. This morning Bella and I had a long talk. She told me… what happened to her."

"What?" I asked, my eyes narrowed in confusion.

"She told me about what happened the other night, about the… rape," she said in a near whisper. For some reason it was comforting that even my mom had trouble saying that word.

I took off my hat and tossed it onto the table, running a hand over my hair. "Now you know."

"I'm so sorry, honey." She reached across the table but I pulled away, unwilling to be consoled. She looked startled at first, and then sad, but she gave me a knowing look and dropped her hands to her lap. I remembered back to right after my father's death when my mom had refused pity from anyone. She understood my grief and probably even my guilt.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked.

"No."

"She wants to come to your game today."

"Why?"

"She said she wants to support you like you've done for her. She mentioned something about trying to be normal. She asked me to go with her."

"I don't want her to come. Alice will be there and she already knows something's wrong. I don't want her to bug Bella."

"It might not be a bad idea for her to get out of the house for a bit."

"I'd rather she didn't come," I said with finality, though really, who was I kidding? Bella did what she wanted and if she wanted to come to my game, she'd find a way. I pushed my almost-full plate away and dropped my head into my hands.

"Edward, I'm worried about you," my mother said after giving me a few minutes of silence to brood. "I can see what a toll this is taking. Maybe you _should_ stay home for the rest of the day."

I rubbed my face and met her gaze. She did look concerned, but I couldn't find it in me to care. "I can't now. Bella wants me to go to school and to my game. Remember what she said last night?"

"Honey—" she began.

I was teetering dangerously on the edge of losing control and I didn't want my mother to be at the mercy of my anger again. "Can I have a few minutes to myself before I have to go back to school?"

For a second she looked genuinely hurt, but then she arranged her face into a mask of composure, pushed her chair back with a harsh scrape and left the room.

Rosalie was sitting on a bench between the parking lot and the courtyard when I get back to school. By the time I spotted her, it was too late to change my route without being obvious, not that she would've let me. She stared as I made my way toward her, her eyes like daggers. I walked slowly, wondering how many inquisitive, emotional females I was going to have to deflect before the end of the day. I felt certain that if I could've talked to Bella during lunch—held her and seen even the tiniest of smiles—the afternoon would have been tolerable, but instead I'd spent most of the hour sitting alone in the kitchen picking at my food and worrying.

Rose stood up as I approached. "Edward," she said in what I supposed was meant to be a greeting. It sounded more like an accusation. "Where has Bella been?"

"She's at home—at my house, I mean. She's okay, though," I added hastily.

"Is she sick?"

"Yes," I lied, because it was simpler. "But she'll be fine."

"Right," Rose said with unrestrained sarcasm. "Why all the secrecy? Why won't she answer her phone?"

"She's, uh, resting." I was a terrible liar.

"Are you sick too?"  
"No, why?"

"Because you were out yesterday too," she said, as if I might not comprehend. "Emmett told me you never miss school during baseball season."

_Damn Emmett and his big mouth_. "I was home with Bella."

"She's supposed to be staying with me while her parents are in Memphis. If something's wrong, you'd better tell me. I don't want to be caught in a lie."

I could see her point, I really could, but my hands were tied. "I'll ask her to call you." Rosalie crossed her arms, looking ready to lay into me. I took a swift step around her. "I need to get to class," I said and walked away.

The rest of the school day dragged. My head was in a cloud. I missed Bella's presence during Math, even more so than I'd thought I would. The sweet smiles she flashed me when she turned around in her seat, her hand running across my arm as she passed by my desk, the quick kiss I always got as soon as class was over—I hadn't realized how much of my day she consumed until she was missing from it entirely.

When the final bell rang, I breathed a sigh of relief and stuffed my books into my backpack. I headed for the locker room to change into my baseball uniform even though I had no desire to play.

Against my better judgment, I warmed up on the field with Jasper and Emmett, though my reluctance turned out to be unnecessary. I was hesitantly optimistic that Jazz would exercise a little discretion, which he did, but Emmett was on his best behavior, too. Alice must've clued them in to what little she knew because I'd never experienced such a subdued warm up in all my years of baseball.

Bella showed up with my mother right before the first pitch was thrown. I spotted them from the field and watched out of the corner of my eye as Bella trailed my mother up the metal steps of the bleachers. She'd exchanged her sweats for a pair of jeans, but she was in another of my sweatshirts. She stopped to greet Alice and Rose, then followed my mom to a bench a few rows away. I watched as she fluffed her hair around her face and crossed her arms over her chest. Her subtly insecure gestures were enough to rattle the little focus I'd managed gain while warming up. All I wanted to do was go to her and thank her for being so brave.


	17. Seventeen

**As always, Please be advised that this is a story about rape, it's effects on a high school relationship, and the beginning steps of recovery for both the victim and her significant other. I have already written this story in its entirety (I will update weekly) and can assure you that there are no scenes of gratuitous violence or graphic sexual assault. The topic of sexual assault is handled realistically, but with upmost sensitivity. Still, if rape is a topic that is especially upsetting to you, you might want to read another story. **

**All Twilight references belong to Stephenie Meyer. Original material belongs to this author.**

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Bella

I felt an odd sense of duty about going to Edward's game. It was what a good girlfriend—a normal girlfriend—would do. I hadn't missed one since we started dating and I wasn't about to start. Esme had looked at me like I'd lost my mind when I'd mentioned it that morning after Edward had gone to school. She hadn't been hard to convince, though, especially after I'd spilled my story in a moment of reckless abandon. After she'd dried her tears, I'd gotten the impression she would have done just about anything I asked.

It felt good to be outside, breathing in the fresh spring day, the sun warming my face. The stands were packed with people, my friends included, but I was in a world of my own. I focused on the dust in the air, the smell of leather and sunshine, and on Edward.

Had I known how badly he'd play, how completely I'd rattle his focus, I would have stayed home. Ridgeville lost six to four.

After the game I waited outside the locker room a few feet from where Esme was talking quietly to Coach Cullen. From what little I could hear, their conversation was personal. I heard Edward's name murmured more than once, but I got the distinct impression that grades and baseball stats were not the topic of conversation. I felt awkward, hanging around the two of them while they were so clearly wrapped up in each other, but it was infinitely better than the alternative: Alice and Rose and their endless questions.

When Edward came out of the locker room, I watched him search the crowd. When he saw me, his eyes sparked, annoyance at my unexpected appearance, I think. When we were face to face, he took my hands in his. "I can't believe you came."  
"I'm sorry about the loss," I told him, waving to Esme as she snuck away.

"It doesn't matter," he said, apathetic.

I thought it did. I took a breath to tell him as much, but the look on his face stopped me.

"Can we go?" he ask, his voice clipped.

I let my gaze fall to the pavement and dropped his hands, awash in confusion. "Okay."

"Can I take you to dinner?" he asked more gently. "I don't feel like going home."

I nodded, not yet ready to meet his eyes. His mood was puzzling. Edward's patience with me was usually infinite. The loss was probably part of it, but he suddenly seemed to have a short fuse where I was concerned specifically. I couldn't think of what I'd done to upset him. It isn't until he was pulling out of the school parking lot that the answer popped into my head. "I'm sorry about lunch," I told him. "I wish you would have woken me."

"It's fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I know you haven't been sleeping well." The further we got from school, the more relaxed he seemed to become. "Did my mom drive you nuts today?"

"No, she was fine, actually. She taught me how to knit. I know how to cast on now, and how to do the knit stitch. Next she's going to teach me how to purl."

He looked at me like I was speaking Portuguese. "What are you making?"

"Nothing yet, just a practice piece, but it's keeping my mind busy."

He took my hand and held it on his lap. "Will you show it to me?"

"If you want. How was school?"

He grimaced. "Do you want to truth?"

"Always."

"I've had better days. I missed you like crazy, I barely spoke to Emmett or Jasper, and Alice was… Alice."

"That bad?"

"It is what it is, I guess. They're worried about you. They know something's up and it doesn't help that I acted like a complete asshole. Oh, you should probably call Rose. I tried to steer clear of her, but I think she's freaking out."

"I guess I can't avoid her forever."

When we got to the restaurant, the same one he'd taken me to on our first official date, we were seated at a private table in the back corner. The lighting was muted, each table lit by a small candle. It was very warm and I instantly began to feel tired, the effects of the last few days catching up to me out of nowhere. I ordered a Coke, hoping the caffeine would give me some energy. Edward, who had noticeable shadows under his eyes, did the same. Once the waiter left for the kitchen, I settled back into my chair and watched as he slid his menu, unopened, to the corner of the table. I smiled. "Steak and baked potato with ketchup?"

"Definitely. You?"

"I'm going to have the same, I guess, minus the ketchup. I think some of your predictabilities are rubbing off on me."

"Predictability isn't such a bad thing, you know," he said, his voice low and smoky.

"I never thought it was," I said reaching across the table for his hand.

The waiter arrived with our drinks and we ordered food, barely breaking eye contact to speak to him. When he stepped away, Edward told me what little he'd absorbed from the math review I'd missed. I bored him with tales from my afternoon of knitting and about the very brief conversation I'd had with my mom. My parents were due home from Memphis the next day.

"Will you still come over and talk to them with me?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'll stay as long as you need me."

I ran my fingers through my hair, pushing it forward around my neck, then took a deep breath. "I'm dreading it."

"I know. I'll be there for you."

"I talked your mom today," I said, looking down at the white table cloth because I wasn't sure how he'd take my news. "I told her about what happened."

He closed his eyes. "I know."

"Are you upset?"

He let go of my hand—our waiter had returned with our food, the worst possible timing. I stared at Edward, full of apprehension, waiting for an answer while our waiter, apparently sensing the tension, dropped off dinner without any chatter.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Edward took my hand again, carefully avoiding the plates and glasses that cluttered our little table. "I'm not upset. Why would you think that?"

"I don't know. I wanted to talk to you first; to see if you wanted your mom to know, but she was there and she looked so worried… the words were out of my mouth before I'd even thought about it."

"What did she say?"

"Nothing really. She hugged me and she cried and she promised to do whatever she could. Pretty much the same things you've said. She apologized up and down for what happened at dinner last night."

"Yeah, well, she should have." I watched him squirt an ungodly amount of ketchup onto his plate and cut into his steak with more aggression than it warranted.

"Please don't be angry with her. She didn't know."

His fork, a bite of steak speared and ready, was hovering in the air as he gaped at me. "It wasn't any of her business."

"She feels horrible. She knows you're upset with her. She said you ignored her when you were home at lunch today."

"I didn't have much to say."

"She's doing the best she can."

He put down his unused fork. "Why are you defending her?"

"Because… I know how angry you are and that you have no outlet, but your mom loves you. I don't want this to drive a wedge between the two of you."

He was quiet for a long time. "Okay. I'll let it go," he finally said, before taking a gulp of Coke.

"Thank you."

I picked up my knife and fork and began to cut my steak into tiny pieces, stalling. I hadn't eaten anything all day. There were no hunger pains; in fact, I had no appetite at all. The thought of food made my stomach roil, but I kept up the charade, pushing everything around on my plate so it looked altered enough to fool most. Still, I felt Edward watching me as I dug a well through my baked potato. I silently willed him to let it go.

"Have you had anything to eat today?"

I looked up from my plate, annoyed. "I haven't felt hungry."

"That's not good for you," he said, as if I didn't know the value of proper nutrition.

"How can you expect me to eat if I'm not hungry?"

"I don't _expect_ you to do anything, but I wish you'd try."

"My stomach's queasy. I don't want to push it. Don't worry about me, okay?" My tone was neither harsh nor uncaring, but I could tell my words hurt him. I was starting to wonder if he was capable of _not_ worrying about me.

We didn't talk much more during dinner. I ate a few bites of potato to appease him, and he cleaned his plate, I think to prove a point. The drive back to his house was silent, not a big surprise after the awkwardness of dinner. Thankfully, Esme was already upstairs when we got there, a relief because Edward didn't seem to be in the mood for smoothing things over anymore and I was hardly prepared to watch the two of them argue again.

As we brushed our teeth together at his bathroom sink, I caught his eye in the mirror and smiled through a mouthful of toothpaste, intent on easing the tension before we went to bed. It was our last night together before I had to go home, our last hours of privacy. He smiled back, sweet and forgiving, and nearly lost my breath at the strength of my feelings for him.

When we climbed into bed, he reached for me. For the first time since Wednesday night, I didn't feel the split second of gripping fear. Instead, I wrapped my arms around his waist and tugged him closer, pressing my cheek against his chest over his heart.

"Everything will be okay tomorrow, right?" I whispered.

"Yeah," he said, rubbing my back. "Everything will be okay."


	18. Eighteen

**As always, Please be advised that this is a story about rape, it's effects on a high school relationship, and the beginning steps of recovery for both the victim and her significant other. I have already written this story in its entirety (I will update weekly) and can assure you that there are no scenes of gratuitous violence or graphic sexual assault. The topic of sexual assault is handled realistically, but with upmost sensitivity. Still, if rape is a topic that is especially upsetting to you, you might want to read another story. **

**All Twilight references belong to Stephenie Meyer. Original material belongs to this author.**

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Edward

I knew I was dreaming.

The events that unfolded in front of me were too bizarre to have any place in real life. I stood along the third base line on an unfamiliar ball field taking practice swings. The stands surrounding the field were packed with people, all cheering widely. Rain dropped from the sky in sheets. There were only a few players on the field—Emmett in his usual spot at third base and Jasper out in centerfield, but it was Alice manning first and—of all people—my mother at second base wearing pink button down shirt. _Why are they fielding? _I wondered, confused. _They're supposed to be on my team._

I stepped into the batter's box, took my stance and eyed the pitcher. I recognized Riley, tall and broad shouldered, flaxen hair peeking out from under a black ball cap, and icy blue eyes focused on me with a look of utter disdain.

He scuffed the dirt with the toe of his shoe, and then took a baseball out of his glove, adjusting his grip before taking his stance and eyeing me mockingly. "She's mine," he sneered, and even over the roar of the crowd, I heard him loud and clear.

My fury was instant. I wanted to kill him. I dropped the barrel of the bat to my shoulder and took an aggressive step toward the pitcher's mound.

"Masen!" a frantic voice shouted. I stopped and turned. Coach Cullen was standing in the dugout with Bella's parents. "Now's not the time," he said while Bella's father nodded in agreement. "You had your chance to help her and you didn't. Now it's time to play ball."

I stared at him in shock. "But you don't know what he did!"

"You can't change things now," Bella's mother called, her tone inappropriately kind. "What's done is done."

I could hardly believe my ears, but I shrugged in easy defeat and returned to the batter's box. I swallowed my pride and my anger, knowing there was nothing I could do. Riley gave a scornful lift of his eyebrows, wound up, and pitched the ball. I watched as it traveled toward home plate in slow motion, red threads rotating around and around. I adjusted and swung with every ounce of my strength.

The ball gave a vicious, thundering crack as it sprang off the wood of the bat, slicing through the rain toward where Riley stood on the pitcher's mound. I froze, rooted to my spot, watching his eyes widened in fear, then pain, as the ball slammed into his stomach. His mouth formed a circle of shock, then he crumpled to the muddy ground.

I didn't have a chance to enjoy the triumph because suddenly the fielders—my friends and family—leapt into action, launching themselves at the ball in a group effort to field it.

I forgot all about Riley. My feet moved over the soggy dirt heading for first base, but instead of the thudding sound I expected to hear as my cleats dug into the mud, I heard a soft, methodic clicking. I looked down as I kept up my sprint toward the safety of the base, more puzzled by the out of place sound of my running than anything else. My feet continued to make contact with the sodden earth and the strange clicking persisted, making me crazy with confusion.

Something warm touched my forehead. I looked up through the rain at the menacing clouds above, trying to find the source of the warmth. I was disoriented, but I kept looking around, frantically searching for something. All at once a sickening sadness washed over me. I knew with certainty that someone very important was missing from the scene playing out in front of me.

"Edward," a gentle but urgent voice called, cutting through the cheers and pounding rain in my dream.

I sucked in air, willing myself to open my eyes.

"Please," she said. The desperation in her voice pulled at my heart. "Please wake up."

I opened my eyes because I couldn't stand to hear her pleading.

Bella was sitting on my bed, awash in light from my desk lamp. Her warm hand pressed against my forehead and then my cheek, grounding me in reality. The sight of her eased the anxious sorrow of my dream. Ignoring her recoil, I sat up and pulled her to me, selfishly burying my face in her hair. My need for her was too overwhelming. She recovered quickly, exhaling and relaxing against me, first letting me hold her, then hugging me back. Her soft familiarity brought instant comfort.

She rubbed my neck, her soothing fingers making haphazard patterns along my sweaty skin. Her hands moved down my back, tracing over rigid muscles until I wasn't panting anymore. She kissed my cheek, then my neck before whispering, "You were dreaming."

"I know," I said, faintly mortified.

She shivered in my arms. I remembered how completely her dream had freaked me out. "I'm so sorry. I hope I didn't scare you."

"No, I wasn't asleep," she said, tightening her hold.

"I'm glad you woke me." I looked at the clock: two-thirty. "Have you slept?"

Her shoulders tightened. "Not yet."

"Then you should have gotten me up before now."

"You need to sleep."

"I can't without you—not well, at least." I buried my nose in her hair. "Have you just been sitting here all this time?"

"No, I've been practicing my knitting." She pointed to the ball of chocolate brown yarn and two long knitting needles piled next to us on the bed. "See?" she said, picking up the needle that had a length of knitted yarn running along it.

I touched the delicate piece she'd been working on all night—little knots lined up in neat, even rows. The effort she'd so clearly put into it was obvious, like everything she did. "This brown matches your eyes," I said softly, running my hand over the nubby yarn.

"Your mom said the same thing." She adjusted herself on the bed so she was leaning against my side. I draped my arm over her shoulder as she picked up the second needle and resumed knitting. "Will you tell me about your dream?"

I sensed that describing my dream would damage her more than it would help me to talk about it. "Not yet."

I watched her for a few minutes, her face pinched in concentration as the yarn ran through her fingers. The needles clicked together systematically, raising a flag of recognition. "You know, that sound your needles are making worked its way into my dream."

"I thought you didn't want to talk about it," she said, a triumphant little smile teasing me.

"I don't, but at one point I was running and that clicking sound threw me off."

"What were you running from?"

"Nothing, I was playing the most ass-backward baseball game."

"And that was scary?"

"The whole thing was creepy," I said, overlooking the fact that she'd tricked me into talking after all.

"But you're okay now?"

"I think so."

She dropped the needles to her lap and rested her head on my shoulder. "Are you going to sleep again?"

"Only when you're ready."

"I think I'm ready now," she sighed. "I'm so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open."

I rescued the yarn and needles from her lap and set them on my nightstand before we eased down under the quilt. I laid a kiss on the top of her head. "Try to relax. You're going to get a night of good sleep," I whispered. It was a hefty promise, but I hoped it will prove true.

The next morning we showered and dressed—Bella in another of my sweatshirts—before going downstairs. My mom was there, ready for work and stalling, waiting for us to make an appearance. She greeted Bella with a smile and a hug, then gave me a curt, "Good morning, Edward."

"Morning," I said with as much cheer as I could manage. I must've been convincing enough, because Bella gave me a subtle nod of approval and Esme appeared happily surprised.

The three of us sat together at the kitchen table making small talk while my mom and I ate. Bella picked at a piece of dry toast.

Shortly after breakfast, my mom rushed out the door to open Petals on time. Bella and I were left on our own, our last few hours of privacy before she had to go home, presumably for a very long time.

At eleven, she packed her things, gave my bedroom a sad departing glance and trailed behind me to my Volvo. The drive went too quickly and before I knew it we were headed up the hill to her driveway. Her car was still there, unusually dusty, parked in front of the house where it had been since Wednesday night.

"Will you pull around to the garage?" she asked.

I did, then followed her into the house and up the back staircase to her room where she unpacked her bag, putting everything away in its place. When she finished, she looked at me and said, "We probably shouldn't be up here when my parents get home."

_No, definitely not_. We headed back down the stairs and sat at the kitchen table, anxiously awaiting the sound of a car in the driveway.

Right at noon the muffled mechanics of the Swans' garage door kicked into gear. Bella's eyes jumped to mine, wide with anxiety. Her hands flew to her hair, raking through the strands as she bit into her bottom lip. "I don't think I can do this," she said, lines of worry creasing her forehead.

I smoothed a hand along the side of her face, brushing my fingers along her forehead, her cheek, her jaw, hoping to ease a fraction of the tension in the few seconds we still had alone. She looked so heartbreakingly miserable that I had to swallow the emotion that was rising in my throat. Her eyes were bright—filled with tears, I realized, and panic set in. My eyes were chained to the door while I prayed for another few minutes to calm her down. "Please don't cry," I begged, brushing my thumbs under her eyes. "It's going to be okay."

"They're going to send you home as soon as they find out. I can't—I don't think I can stand to be away from you."

I'd already thought of that. They'd want some time alone with her. Hell, Charlie might hold me responsible—I wouldn't have been able to blame him—and banish me from his house.

"I'll come back later," I assured her. Pulling her along, I stood and wrapped my arms around her waist, drawing her close. "I promise I'll be here whenever you need me."

The door opened. I released Bella and took a hasty step back. She swiped her hands along her cheeks as Mr. Swan entered the kitchen, toting a small rolling suitcase and black briefcase. Renee followed behind, dragging her own much larger suitcase. They both stopped short when they saw Bella and me standing in the kitchen.

Mr. Swan gave me a look to kill, unhappy about seeing me at his unsupervised house. "Why isn't your car in the garage?" he asked Bella.

Renee stepped around him with a little _tsk_ and hugged her daughter. "It's nice to see you kids. I feel like we've been gone forever!" She moved to hug me too, but then she paused and peered at Bella. My heart sank as she reached toward the little scab on her lower lip. "Bella… what happened?"

It was not how I'd pictured things. In my mind's eye, the four of us were seated around the kitchen table while Bella calmly explained what happened. Instead, Renee was standing, confused as hell, with her hand on Bella's cheek. Her teary eyes were trained suspiciously on me.

Mr. Swan dropped his briefcase on the floor and closed in on us. I watched, dismayed, as his eyes traveled to the fading bruises on his daughter's neck, so clearly the evidence of a strong and determined hand. It was apparent when the pieces fell into place… why hadn't I foreseen this? He drew in a breath and turned to me, red-faced and furious. "I warned you about this!" he bellowed, jabbing a finger at me.

For a second Bella looked mystified, her jaw dropped and her eyes narrowed. Unlike me, she hadn't realized who Charlie had immediately assumed guilty. She looked from him to me and then back again before grasping what was happening. "Dad! Stop it!"

Mr. Swan took no notice. He stepped toward me with a menacing glare. "How dare you put your hands on her?"

The man was going to kill me in his gourmet kitchen—it was inevitable. I kept my mouth shut, but felt a strange calm spread over me as I waited for my life to flash before my eyes. I deserved it. I _was_ partly to blame. He took another step forward, the faint sheen of sweat across his forehead glistening in the recessed lighting.

Renee shrank back, grasping for Bella's arm in an attempt to pull her out of harm's way, but Bella jerked away and slid into the small space between her father and me. "Daddy, listen! It wasn't Edward! He didn't hurt me."

Mr. Swan wavered, torn between logic and fury. "Who did?" he asked, still glaring.

Her shoulders fell with a sigh. "Can we sit down? I have something I need to talk to you and Mom about."

"You," Mr. Swan snapped, "go home!"

"No. Edward stays," Bella said indignantly.

"_Bella_…"

"Edward stays," she repeated. "I need him."

"Charlie," Renee said in quiet reproach. "Let's hear what they have to say."

He huffed, then spun around and walked to the family room. Renee followed, wringing her hands. Bella held out her own shaky hand, indicating I should follow her parents. Despite my reservations about physical affection in front of the Swans, I took her hand and led her to the family room. "It'll be okay," I whispered.

We sat—Charlie and Renee on one side of the over-stuffed sectional, Bella and me on the other, her hand still clasped in mine.  
"What the hell is going on?" Mr. Swan asked, his frostiness not quite masking the concern in his voice.

"Edward wasn't the one who hurt me," Bella reiterated.

Renee gave an obvious sigh of relief. "Who did, sweetie?"

"Riley."

"_What?_" Mr. Swan bellowed.

"It was Riley. He came here."

He jumped up off the couch and looked around like he wasn't sure who or what should be on the receiving end of his wrath. "When?"

"Sit down, Charlie," Renee said. He sat.

"Wednesday. He followed me here from school."

"But you were supposed to be with Rosalie."

Bella was quiet for a second, probably trying to get her story straight. "I came here to pick up a few things."

"Where were _you_?" Mr. Swan asked, his angry eyes fixed on me.

I opened my mouth to cover my ass, but Bella came to my rescue. "Edward had just finished playing a baseball game. He was eating dinner with his friends."

"So, Riley came here… and then what happened?" Something about Renee's demeanor told me she had a clue as to what was coming.

"Um…" Bella looked at me helplessly. "He was angry, he… hurt me," she said pointing to her injuries. She was glossing over the details, just as she'd done with me. I wondered grimly if any of us would ever know the whole story.

"He hurt you," Bella's father repeated, void of emotion.

"Yes." I squeezed her hand, urging her to go on. "He—" she stopped, choking on a sob. She leaned against me, shaking her head.

Renee sprang up and moved to sit on the other side of her daughter. Bella flinched at the sudden movement, but her mom didn't seem to notice. She rubbed Bella's back as she started to cry in earnest. Renee looked at me in desperation. "What happened, Edward?"

"He—he forced her," I managed. It was s so much worse than I'd imagined.

Understanding seemed to dawn on the Swans at the same time. Their reactions were opposite. Renee dropped her chin onto Bella's trembling shoulder and murmured into her ear, holding her free hand. Charlie stood and stormed out of the room toward his office, uttering a long string of obscenities along the way. I watched him go, my mouth hanging open in shock, wondering if he was off to search for his gun. I can't say I wouldn't have wanted to stop him. The door slammed with a startling pound. I stayed seated, stunned.

I felt like I was intruding on a private family matter. I seriously considered leaving Bella and her parents to themselves for the rest of the day, but in the end I couldn't do it. I had a crazy need to protect her, especially then, while she was crying and shaking so uncontrollably. I felt attached, like there was an invisible thread holding me to her. I stayed on the couch, sitting stiffly, gripping her clammy hand.

To my extreme relief, Renee pulled away and stood, giving Bella's shoulder a final comforting pat. She mumbled something about checking on her husband and walked out of the room. Bella fell into my arms, burying her face in her hands, leaning on me like she lacked the strength to sit up. I held her until her sobs grew quieter and further apart. The tension in her body faded, but she stayed in my arms. I wondered if she was as reluctant to pull away as I was to let her go.

When at last the only sounds she was making were sniffles, she sat up, straightening her spine to look at me. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, faint smudges of black makeup streaked underneath. The hair around her face was damp, starting to curl. She ran the sleeves of her sweatshirt over her face, then fished around in the pocket of her jeans until she found a hair elastic. "I must look awful," she whispered, gathering her long hair into a ponytail.

"You look beautiful." She did—sad, but still beautiful. "Bella, should I go?"

"Not unless you want to."

"I don't, but I feel like I'm intruding."

"You aren't." She looked wasted, like she was going to collapse any minute. "That didn't go very well."

_No, it didn't. _"They need some time to absorb it. They'll be all right."

She shook her head. "My father can't even stand to be in the same room as me."

"He's upset."

"You were upset, but you didn't walk away."

"I won't ever walk away, but that was different."

"How so?"

"I don't know, it just was." It wasn't different, not at all, and for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why I was making excuses for the man. "Give him some time."

"What are we supposed to do now?"

"Wait, I guess."

There were footsteps in the foyer and then in the kitchen behind us seconds after I'd finished speaking. Renee was leading, her eyes dry of tears and her face carefully composed, while Charlie trailed behind her looking like a scolded puppy. I can only imagine what their conversation in the study must've been like, but whatever had taken place left Bella's father ashamed and remorseful. He paused as he passed Bella and kissed the top of her head. "I'm so sorry, honey," he murmured before sitting down.

"Bella," Renee said. "We'd like to talk to you about this, but I imagine it's has been very hard. We don't want to make it any worse." She was usually kind of flighty, but she was holding up well. Much better than her husband, who was sitting next to her, stiff as a board, his eyes darting around the room, focused on anything but his daughter.

Bella leaned against me. "I'll try to talk about it."

And so she laid out the same carefully edited story she'd given me, sticking to the vaguest of basics, her voice empty and hallow as she spoke.

"Did you call the police?" Mr. Swan asked when she finished her quick narrative.

"I called Edward," she replied, as if that should've been obvious. She took my hand. "He came over."

"We went to the hospital," I supplied.

"And you're… okay?" Renee asked.

"Yes, Mom." I didn't miss the pointed glance that passed between Bella and her mother.

Mr. Swan was persistent. "When did you talk to the police?"

Bella looked at me out of the corner of her eye, apparently reluctant to answer.

"She hasn't yet," I filled in. "She wanted to think about it for a few days and get your input."

"We're going to the police station today," Charlie said. When Bella didn't argue, I shot him a grateful look.

"I wish you would have called us," Renee said, staring at her folded hands. I wasn't sure if she was talking to Bella or me. "We should have been here to take care of you. We would have come home, sweetie."

"I didn't want to tell you over the phone."

"But you've been alone all this time."

"No, Edward's mother let me stay in the guest room at her house. Edward's been taking care of me." She squeezed my hand and gazed up at me, her dark eyes full of gratitude I wasn't ready to accept. The crushing tension of the day had been enough to distract me from my guilt, but it came flooding back like a tidal wave. I'd made too many mistakes to deserve her gratefulness.

"Well, we're here now. We'll do whatever we can to make things easier for you," Renee promised.

Charlie nodded in agreement, then turned his attention to me. I braced myself.

"Thank you, Edward," he said, startling me with his humble tone. "Thank you for taking care of our daughter when we couldn't."

When I left the Swans', Bella's mother hugged me at the door with a teary thank you and Mr. Swan gave me a firm handshake that said enough. Bella walked me through the garage and out into the bright sunlight to my Volvo where she hugged me for a long time.

When she finally unwrapped herself and looked up at me, her tear-streaked cheeks were strangely iridescent in the afternoon sun. She put her hands on my neck and pulled me to her level. "Thank you so much, for everything," she whispered against my ear. "I'll call you later."

I kissed her forehead and then both of her cheeks, finding it very difficult to let her go. I gave her ponytail a light tug and stepped away. "I love you."

She waved at me from the garage. I watched her disappear into the house before I descended the hill, feeling cautiously optimistic for the first time in days.

###

I was glad to see that my mom was still at work when I got home. I needed to decompress. I'd been anxious all day, attentive to every shift in Bella's mood, hyperaware of her posture and breathing and inflections. The adrenaline that had been helping me function had all but vanished.

I made myself a sandwich, then scanned the TV channels more than once, trying to find something to hold my attention. I finally settled on ESPN and spent the next few hours sprawled on the couch, staring at the television while the words of the commentators floated around me.

When the idleness became irritating I gave up on TV all together. I headed up to my room to strip the sheets off my bed—except the pillowcase Bella had been using—and dropped them into the washing machine. As I left the laundry room, I heard the front door open.  
My mom and I met in the kitchen. "You're home early."

"I wanted to see how you're doing. Alice's mom is closing up for me."

"You didn't tell her anything, did you?"

"Of course not. How did it go?"

I sat down at the kitchen table. "As well as can be expected, I guess. Her parents were horrified, but they handled it okay."

My mom sank into the chair across from me. "How's Bella?"

"I don't know. I haven't talked to her since I left her house. Her dad's taking her to file a police report."

"That's good, right?"

"Yeah." I folded my arms across the tabletop and dropped my chin onto them.

"Honey, you look so tired. Why don't you go upstairs and lay down?"

"I want to be awake when she calls. Plus, my sheets are in the wash."

She frowned, her eyes crinkling at the corners. She looked as tired as I felt. "I'm worried about you. This is a lot for you to deal with, probably too much."

"What do you think I should do?" I asked, raising my head. "Leave Bella to deal with it herself? Abandon her when she needs me most?"

"No, of course not." She traced a finger over the table's wood grain. "I know you want to help her, but you're sacrificing a lot. I just don't think you're equipped to cope with a situation like this."

"Who is?" I huffed defensively. "Her parents? Her friends? You? Do you know who she called after it happened? _Me_."

"Honey, I didn't mean to imply—"

"No, you should hear this, since you're so unsure about what I'm capable of handling," I said, hiding my shaking hands under the table top. "I had to go to her house, look at her bloodied and shivering, watch her recoil when I tried to touch her, and then force her to go to the hospital where they did God knows what to her. I had to endure her silence while we drove home and then I got to sit outside the bathroom door for nearly an hour while she tried to scrub _him_ off her body. Then I had to hold her while she cried herself to sleep. I have to sit through meals with her while she picks at her food and wake her up from nightmares. Now I get to look at her empty eyes and pretend none of this matters, that it won't change us, and I have to force away guilt so powerful sometimes I think it might kill me."

I stopped, the tears in my mom's eyes a sure sign that I'd made my point. She looked severely wounded. She scooted her chair closer and put a hand on my arm. Though I wanted to, I didn't pull away.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to suggest you weren't doing a good job or that you can't handle this. I'm concerned, that's all. It's hard for me to see you this way, so angry and hurt. I wish there was something I could do."

"Me too."

She sat in silence for a few minutes, considering her next words. "You can't let the guilt crush you," she said in a gentle voice. "Take it from someone who's been there—holding yourself responsible won't change what happened. It will only make you miserable."

"But I should have been there for her."

"You didn't know, or you would have been. You can't blame yourself."

I stared down on the table, debating whether or not to just be truthful. "I do," I whispered, relieved to finally admit it aloud.

"Do you blame Bella?"

My eyes snapped up to meet hers. "No!"

"Then you can't blame yourself. You are no more at fault than she is. The only person with any culpability in this situation is the boy who violated her. You have to let go of the guilt. No good can come of it."

I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to let her words sink in. I knew deep down she was right. Esme knew better than anyone the damaging toll guilt could take. Her last words to my dad had been ugly. I suspected that she wondered if that was the reason he got behind the wheel after drinking. I'd watched guilt nearly bury her eight years before and I was letting the same thing happen to myself.

"I'll try. I've got to go put my sheets in the dryer. Thanks, Mom," I said before leaving the room.

###

It was nearly ten by the time Bella called. I'd already tried her phone twice and gotten voicemail both times. I was about five minutes from driving to her house, my dignity overshadowed by how worried I was, when my phone rang.

I snatched it up and left the living room where I'd been pretending to watch TV.

"Hey," I answered, sinking down onto my clean sheets.

"Hey, I'm sorry it's taken me so long to call."

"It's okay," I said, my earlier anxiety forgotten. "How are you?"

"I'm okay. Tired."

I waited a few seconds to see if she'd elaborate. When she didn't, I prodded. "Did you go to the police station?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to tell me how it went?"

"To be honest, I'd rather not talk about it."

"Bella—"

"Please. Don't push me."

"I don't mean to. I just can't stand the thought of you suffering through this alone. You can talk to me."

The line was silent. I wondered if maybe I _had_ pushed her too far. She was fragile and I, apparently, was insensitive. I had a vision of her hanging up the phone and not calling back—ever. The idea terrified me to my core. I wanted to wipe out all my previous words and start over.

Then I heard an intake of her breath. "It was horrible," she said softly. "I had to relive the whole thing. It was humiliating. A stranger at the police station knows more about me than my friends or my parents or you."

My mind was blank and I felt like a jerk. I'd pressured her into talking and had nothing thoughtful or comforting to say. "I'm sorry. Do you want me to come over?"

"No. You should go to bed. You sound really tired."

"Yeah, so do you."

"Maybe you can come over tomorrow morning. I'll cook you breakfast."

"Yeah, okay. Sleep well. I love you."

"Bye, Edward."


	19. Nineteen

**All Twilight names and references belong to Stephenie Meyer. Original elements, including plot, belong to me. **

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Bella

I was standing over a pan of frying bacon, the smell of grease threatening to turn my stomach upside down, when the doorbell rang. I kept my feet glued to the floor, still nursing my irrational and frustrating fear of the foyer.

"Edward," I heard my dad say in the most cordial greeting he'd ever offered my boyfriend.

Edward's voice filtered into the kitchen. "Good morning, Mr. Swan."

"Bella is in the kitchen. Renee is out, but I'll be in my office if the two of you should need me."

"All right, thanks,"

I lifted the edge of a pancake to check its doneness as his footsteps approached.

"Hey," he said quietly, like he was trying not to startle me.

I looked up, my mouth curving into a tentative smile. "I've been waiting for you. Breakfast is almost ready."

He closed the few steps to me. "I missed you," he said, his warm palm against the fading bruises my neck.

Self conscious, I reached up to pull the elastic from my hair, the dark strands falling around my shoulders like cascading water.

Edward swept my hair over my shoulders, exposing my neck again. "Please don't hide from me," he whispered.

He leaned in and kissed one of the bruises, his gentle touch layered on top of Riley's harsh fingerprints. The eerie combination of the two made my skin crawl in a way it never had in Edward's presence. Suddenly, I felt very claustrophobic.

I shuffled back a step and shook my hair forward. "I'm not hiding."

He blinked, obviously taken aback. My heart twisted at the hurt on his face, the hurt _I'd_ put there. His silence melted the cold in my heart. I reached for his hand. "I'm sorry."

He weaved his fingers through mine and nodded, but could tell he hadn't recovered. He leaned up against the counter, still holding my hand, while I tried to make sense of what had happened. My moods had been erratic lately, but it was so different, the disturbing shock of irritation I got from his harmless words and soft kiss. In my head I excused it away—lack of sleep, being away from him for the night after days of his constant presence, frustration at my parents' renewed watchfulness. It couldn't be _Edward_.

I slid the golden pancakes onto a platter, then added bacon and strawberries, arranging everything artfully in an attempt to avoid his gaze. "Do you want to eat on the patio?" I asked when I'd finished.

"Sure, what can I carry?"

"You can get us some juice, and maybe a couple of napkins."

He followed me outside where we sat down at table. The wisteria that climbed trellis was in full bloom and the smell of honeysuckle hung in the morning air. It was weird and unsettling to feel so somber in the middle of an otherwise cheerful spring day.

My thoughts were a string of chaos and I felt tightly wound, like the smallest thing would make me snap. I knew I was being stand-offish and I knew it was messing with Edward, but I was seeing things through a filter. Shades of gray. Something had shifted and I wasn't sure how to back up and fix it. I tried to pull myself together while I picked at my food.

"Thanks for cooking for me," he said, disturbing the quiet of the morning.

"You're welcome."

He loaded his plate with another pancake and more bacon. "This breakfast is going to wipe out the run I went on this morning."

"Did you run with Maggie?"

"Yeah, she's been like my shadow since you left yesterday. I think she misses you."

"What did you end up doing last night?" I asked in a lame effort to keep up my end of the conversation.

"Nothing… I went to bed after we talked."

"Really?"

"Yeah. What else would I have done?"

"I don't know." It had been so long since we'd spent an evening apart. I had no idea what he might do with his time when I wasn't around. "I thought you might have gone to the gym or out with Jasper and Emmett."

"Are you serious?" He put down his fork, giving me his full attention. "What makes you think I would've been in the mood to see them?"

I took a drink of orange juice, buying time. "Maybe it would be good for you. Maybe you could use a change of pace."

"I'm fine," he lied, his eyes focused on the pool behind me. "What about you? What'd you do?"

I broke off a piece of bacon and took a small bite before answering. "Nothing much. I talked to Rose finally."

He went back to his breakfast. "How'd that go?"

"Okay, I guess. She was kind of freaking out when I called." I eyed him, gauging his mood. "I'm thinking about telling her what happened."

"Why?" he asked, unable to mask his surprise.

"I don't know. I don't want anyone to know, but she's my closest friend."

"Do you think she'd tell Em?"

That same defiant voice I'd used earlier in the kitchen made an unwelcome return. "Do you not want Emmett to know?"

It was clear he was making a conscious effort to reply calmly. "I only asked because Rosalie doesn't seem to be very discreet. I wasn't sure if you'd considered that. And frankly, no, I'd rather Emmett didn't know."

"Why not?"

His eyes clouded with frustration. "I guess because I don't want him or Jasper—or anyone else for that matter—to think of you that way."

"You're embarrassed?"

He dropped his fork to his plate with a startling clatter. "Jesus, Bella. Have I ever once acted like I'm embarrassed?"

I looked down at my plate, ashamed. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why I was suddenly picking on him, why it was suddenly so hard to give him the benefit of the doubt. "No."

"Have I done something to piss you off?"

I shook my head, still not looking at him.

"You asked me what I thought and I told you, but you should do whatever you want, whatever will make things this easier for you. I'll deal, okay?"

I slid a shaky finger along the drops of condensation on my juice glass. I hated how volatile I felt. I hated how the littlest things were making me snap. More than anything, I hated how-without even meaning too- I was taking in out on Edward, the person who'd been there for me from the start. It was unfathomable to think of him angry, yelling, or worse yet, storming away because my unpredictable bitchiness pushed him over the edge. "I don't want you to be mad," I said.

He covered my hand with his. "I'm not."

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Me too."

"You haven't done anything wrong, Edward. It's me. I don't know what's wrong with me.

"Nothing."

"Well, I sure don't feel right. I've just been so..."

"Pissed off?"

I gave him a cheerless smile. "Yeah, I guess. Everything is such a mess. I feel like I'm being swept along. It's so frustrating to lose control of my life. I don't mean to take it out on you." Feeling a little better, I turned my hand over on the table so our palms rested against each other.

"You can take it out on me if you need to."

I smiled. Talking to him was so therapeutic. Healing, almost. He made me feel like I might be able face the day after all. I closed my eyes, collecting myself. I felt his hand brush over my cheek, his thumb sweep beneath my eye, across the dark shadow I'd noticed in the mirror that morning.

"You look so tired, Bella."

"I couldn't sleep last night."

"You were scared?"

I'd been terrified. Every creak, every shadow, every rustle of wind outside my window had set my nerves on edge. I missed Edward's bed, his soft, well-worn sheets, his strong, protective arms surrounding me. "I hate this house," I whispered.

He combed his fingers through my hair. "What'd you do all night?"

"Practiced knitting." As evidence, I held my hand out in front of his face, fingers spread wide, showing off the beginnings of a callous.

"Holy shit, Bella." He took my hand to inspect the redness more closely, running his finger over the rough skin before kissing it. "Maybe you should've taken a break."

"I had to do something to keep my mind occupied."

"Was it a dream that kept you up?"

"No, I never fell asleep. It's hard to be here, especially after my parents went to bed."

"You should have called me," he said, folding my hand carefully between both of his. "I would've come over."

"You need to sleep."

"I don't care if I sleep. Promise you'll call me tonight if you're awake."

I frowned, preparing an argument. "Edward—"

"Please. I'll be awake anyway because I'll be too worried about you knitting holes through your skin."

"All right, I promise."

"Are you going to school tomorrow?"

That was a loaded question. I'd been battling my parents since the day before about school. "My mom doesn't want me to, but I'd rather be at school than stuck in the house all day. I think I'm starting to go a little crazy."

"I hope you'll be there. Friday was awful without you."

I smiled mockingly. "Well, whatever makes things easier for you."

He grimaced at my teasing. "I can't believe you're making light of it. Friday _was_ awful." He reached out, running his hand along my cheek, across my jaw and then down to my collarbone. "I missed you, like I missed you yesterday and last night and this morning. I'm miserable when I'm not with you."

He'd said heavier things, words that promised a future, alluded to forever. Words that gave me butterflies and made me blush and warmed me from the inside out.

That was before.

Immersed in my new normal, it was hard to take what he said at face value. I was convinced his feelings had changed, at least a little. He wasn't human if he didn't have doubts about me—about us. There was no way he could be so naïve as to think things between us would stay exactly the same. That we'd just continue down our little trail of innocence and happiness.

My heart felt empty. I took a shallow breath, preparing to talk some sense into him. "Edward—"

He held up his hand. "Don't. Please don't try to argue or dissuade me or say something sensible. I'd rather you didn't say anything at all."

I pressed my lips together to stop myself from blurting out something I'd surely regret later. Feeling helpless and trivial and stifled, I gazed out into the yard, spotting a cardinal who was perched on the staked bird feeder. He pecked away at birdseed that had spilled out onto the tray, not a care in the world.

I watched the bird, envious.

When he'd had his fill, he leapt easily off of the tiny platform, gliding into the air with enviable grace. My jealously morphed into unadulterated resentment as I watched him soar higher into the glare of the sun. I would have given anything at that moment to sprout wings and fly off into the peaceful sky.

"I should go," Edward said out of nowhere, pushing his chair back from the table.

"You're leaving?" I was surprised. Offended, even.

"Yeah, I think so. Do you want me to help you clean up first?"

I stood and stacked our plates on top of each other. "No. I'll just drop these in the sink. I'll clean up later."

He followed me into the house carrying the dishes I couldn't manage and watched as I put everything into the sink basin. I searched my head for something appropriate to say, something to erase the tension, something that would change his mind about leaving. Despite our strained interactions, no matter how horrible I felt, things were always a tiny bit better when Edward was around. "What are you doing the rest of the day?" I asked when I couldn't come up with anything better.

He shrugged. "I don't know. My mom's home, so maybe I'll go for a drive or something."

I toyed with a lock of my hair, studying the floorboards, afraid of what his response to my next question might be. "Would it be okay if I come with you?"

"Do you want to?"

"If you don't mind… it would be nice to get out of the house."

"I don't mind. Will your father care?"

"I don't think so." I walked to the archway that led to my dad's office. "Dad?"

He joined us in the kitchen quickly, alert and concerned. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes," I said, rolling my eyes at his automatic assumption that something catastrophic had happened. "Edward and I are going out for a little while, on a drive maybe. Do you mind?"

He glanced around, looking for my mom, I think. "Oh, uh, sure," he answered when he realized he'd be making the decision on his own. "I guess that would be all right. When will you be back?"

I looked at Edward, my eyebrows raised.

He shrugged. "In a couple of hours?"

"Take your phone, Bella," Charlie said before heading back into his office.

Edward held out his hand. I reached for it, praying I wouldn't feel that same uncomfortably creeped out sensation I'd had earlier.

His warm fingers closed around mine, bringing warmth and comfort and a huge sense of relief.

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. :)**


	20. Twenty

**All Twilight names and references belong to Stephenie Meyer. All original elements and plotlines belong to me.**

**Not sure why, but this is one of my favorite chapters. Hope you like it! :)**

CHAPTER TWENTY

Edward

I parked the Volvo parallel to the river, downstream from where Bella and I so often had lunch. We'd gone on our drive, which was quiet at best. Then I'd found myself heading for the water, like there was a silent voice summoning me.

I pulled my keys from the ignition and unlatched my seat belt. "Should we get some air?"

She nodded and followed me to the river bank where we sat side by side on the grass against the trunk of a fallen tree. We watched the water flow peacefully over eroded rocks. Every so often the wind breezed through, rustling the long grass we were sitting on, blowing Bella's hair up and around us. She kept smoothing it down, trying to tame it. I thought about offering her my hat, but I didn't want her to see it as some kind of underhanded ploy.

"I'm glad you came with me," I said, and I meant it. Even though it was quiet and at times uncomfortable, I would have rather be with her than without.

"Me too," she sighed. "Thanks for getting me out of the house." She sighed again, deeper this time, then leaned into my side. She rested her head on my shoulder. "Is this okay?"

I turned and kissed the top of her head. "Yeah, of course."

"I _do_ miss you, Edward," she said softly, referring, I think, to what I'd said during breakfast. "For the record, when I'm not with you, I miss you so much it hurts. It scares me."

"Why?" I asked, even though I could relate.

"Because you make me so happy… even over the last few days, days that should have been totally and completely dreadful, I've had moments of happiness with you. I'm not sure if I know how to be happy without you anymore." I felt her shake her head against my shoulder. "I've become so dependent on you for comfort. What am I going to do when you aren't around anymore?"

I placed my hand on her leg, palm up, an invitation. She slid her hand into mine. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Yes, you are. We're both going to different schools in a few months—I don't even like to think about it."

"We'll be in the same city. We'll see each other all the time, whenever you want." This doubt of hers was new. We'd never talked about it, but I thought there'd been a silent understanding that we'd stay together when college came. "Nothing's different for me, Bella. Nothing's changed. You believe me when I say that, don't you?"

She was quiet for a beat too long, telling me everything I needed to know.

"Bella—"

"You don't honestly believe nothing's changed."

"Yeah, I do, because it's the truth!" I felt myself getting worked up, pressure building like a volcano about to blow. I was squeezing her hand tighter than before so I dropped it and folded my arms across my chest.

"Please don't get upset. I'm not trying to provoke you. I just—I've been confused. Staying awake all night gives me too much time to think, to look at things from every angle, to question all of my actions and yours, too. That's probably unfair, but… I don't know… I have my reasons." She shifted so she was no longer next to me, but facing me with her back to the river. "Never mind, just forget I said anything."

I'm not sure if I could have been a bigger asshole. All along I'd been struggling to get her to talk to me and the second she tried, I'd lost my temper. "Hey," I said, keeping my voice calm, "don't shut down. Tell me why you think my feelings have changed."

She studied my face for a long time, engaged in an internal battle over whether to give me a second chance. Finally she dropped her eyes and mumbled, "You haven't kissed me."

What with the rushing river water and rustling leaves, I wasn't sure if I'd heard her right. "I haven't kissed you?"

She nodded, her hands busy pulling at blades of grass.

"Bella, look at me." Her pink cheeks and tight mouth gave away her humiliation. I was baffled, at a loss for what was bringing this reaction out in her. "What do you mean?" I asked. "I kiss you all the time."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Not anymore. Not like you used to."

I thought back, trying to sort through the miserable days and sleepless nights that had passed. To be honest, they were starting to run together. I _had_ kissed her, many times—chaste, comforting kisses on her cheeks, her forehead, and her hair. Anywhere that was innocent and modest. Anywhere that _wasn't_ intimate.

"Your lip is still healing," I offered, knowing full well my half-truth wasn't going to fly.

Her fingers went to her mouth, running over the nearly-healed cut. "I think we both know that's not the only reason."

"I don't know what you expect me to say, Bella."

"I just want to know why." She took a deep breath and dropped her head, but not before I saw a tear fall down her cheek. "The other night… Riley never kissed me. I swear, it wasn't like that."

"It wouldn't matter either way," I said honestly.

"Then why?"

I sighed in frustration. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"You never make me uncomfortable."

"I feel like I do. Sometimes I think you're afraid of me. You've jumped when I've walked into rooms. You've shied away when I've for you. I try to avoid doing anything that scares you."

"I'm not scared of you!"

"You can be honest, I understand. I know it's because of what you went through. I know it's not entirely about me."

"It isn't about you at all. I am scared, but not of you. I'm scared of everything _but_ you. You're the only person who makes me feel safe."

"Well, that's good to know," I said, glancing over her shoulder toward the water. I wasn't not sure I believed her, but I wasn't about to argue because I appreciated her attempt at reassuring me. I felt a tiny sliver of optimism wedge its way inside me. I smiled. "So, do you want me to?"

"To what?" she asked, returning my smile with raised eyebrows.

I rolled my eyes at her apparent lack of short-term memory. "To kiss you?" I reminded her. "Is that why you brought it up? Because you want me to?"

"Oh! Oh... I'm not sure. I guess more than anything I want you to _want_ to kiss me."

"I'll always want to."

Indecision shone brightly in her eyes as she spoke her next words. "Maybe we could try?"

"We don't have to. I don't want to do anything you're not ready for."

"How will I know if I never try?"

"I don't know. It's up to you, though. You have to tell me what you want."

She sat still for a few minutes, tracing over my palm with the tip of her index finger, her eyes following the invisible patterns she made on my hand. When she looked up, all the uncertainty had vanished from her face. "I want to try."

I watched her, trying to figure out her motivation, but I saw nothing but confidence in her eyes and conviction on her face.

I, on the other hand, was torn, hovering somewhere between my inherent need to give her what she wanted and the sheer terror I felt at dredging up any of her memories. "You'll tell me if you're uncomfortable?" I asked, still wavering.

"Yes."

"Okay." I held my arms open to her. "Come here."

She clambered onto my lap with excitement that was encouraging. She rested her hands against my chest and looked at me expectantly.

My own hands lay uselessly in the grass beside me because I didn't know what to do with them. Hesitantly, I moved them to rest on her waist, hoping I wasn't crossing some unknown line. It was our first kiss all over again. I had no idea where to start.

Bella apparently felt compelled to state that obvious fact. "You're nervous."

I grinned. "I can't help it. I want this to be good for you."

She ran her hand through my already wild hair. "It will be," she whispered.

I leaned toward her, my back leaving the soft moss of the fallen tree. My hands glided up her back and then under her hair to her neck. Her eyes never left mine as my hands moved further up, trailing over her chin and her cheeks. I brushed my fingertips over her bottom lip, oddly fascinated by the roughness of her healing cut.

She closed her eyes, leaning toward me and I realized I'd missed this side of her, this part of our relationship. I smiled even though she couldn't see me, then I brought my mouth to hers, still caressing her cheek with the tips of my fingers as if I was handling something delicate and breakable.

Our lips barely touched. It was the innocent, diluted version of how we usually kissed—how we'd kissed before—but it was still staggering, mind-blowing in a way that made my breath catch and my chest tighten. I wanted to pull her into my arms, to hold her tight and kiss her thoroughly, but instead I pulled back and assessed her face, searching for a clue as to how much I'd damaged her.

Instead of the tears I was dreading, she was smiling. She looked proud, empowered even, and I smiled back, glad to have had a part in putting that look on her face.

"It was okay?" I asked.

"Better than okay," she assured me as her grin grew wider. "You?"

I laughed. "Yeah, I'm good."

She fell against my chest, wrapping her arms around my waist, nuzzling her cheek against the cotton of my t-shirt. "Thank you," she said, her words muffled by our closeness. "That helped."

I hugged her back but said nothing. I felt like shit—I did every time she thanked me for anything. I wanted to be more than helpful, I wanted to go back in time and protect her, erase all the pain and darkness from her life. I didn't want her to question whether I wanted to kiss her. I wanted her to tell me she loved me… I wanted our life back.

We stayed in our silent embrace until Bella's phone began to ring through the open window of the Volvo. She jumped off my lap and jogged up the hill as I followed behind. After digging her phone out of her bag she glanced at the screen. "Hi, Dad."

She listened to him, and with each second that passed her expression grew more and more solemn until tears were brimming in her eyes. I stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder, unsure of what else to do. The silence became excruciating.

Finally she whispered, "Okay, I'll be home soon," and hung up. "I need to go home," she announced.

"Let's go."

I waited until we're back on the main road before glancing over at her. She'd managed to blink the tears away and was staring wide-eyed through the windshield. I reached toward her, resting my hand tentatively on her arm. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"My dad was contacted by the police officer who's working my case. Riley—Riley…" she was unable to finish, unable to even look at me. I couldn't imagine what her father could have possibly told her that would shatter her this way.

"What?"

"Riley's dead. He committed suicide two nights ago."

The tears were back and this time she couldn't keep them from falling. I stroked her hair as I drove the hill to her house, all the while trying to wrap my head around the news and her bizarre, scary reaction.

I parked in front of the Kelley's open garage but made no move to get out. Instead, I leaned across the console, pulling Bella toward me, trying to quiet her crying before her father came out to investigate.

"It's okay," I whispered into her hair. "It's going to be okay."

She shrank back, glaring at me through puffy, bloodshot eyes. "It's not okay! It's never going to be okay!"

I didn't let her emotion discourage me. I held her hand in mine even as she tried to jerk away. "It _will_ be okay," I said. "He's gone. You'll never have to face him again. It's over."

She yanked her hand free, furious. "Maybe it's over for you, because all you think about is revenge. But it's not over for me. It never will be, no matter what happens. Someone is _dead_ and you're glad."

"That's a low blow," I said quietly. I'd wanted Riley to pay, hell, I'd wished him dead on more than one occasion, but my main focus had always been her. I twisted in my seat, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles were white, all too aware of the confined space, cramped with the anger and accusations that hung in the air like thick fog.

"Well, you don't seem to be upset," she snapped.

"I'm _not_ upset and I won't apologize! I'm not going to mourn the loss of the sick bastard who violated you in ways that make me sick. You're right—I'm glad he's dead."

She squinted at me as if she couldn't believe what she'd heard, all the while shaking her head in disgust. "I can't stand to look at you right now," she said, her words low and cold.

She fumbled for the door handle. When her fingers closed around it, she threw it open and all but fell out of the Volvo. Without another glance, she slammed the door with force that surprised me. I watched through the windshield as she stumbled into the garage, then hit the button that lowered the door.

I shifted into reverse, detached from the situation in a way made me briefly question my sanity. I was too pissed to dwell on that, though. I drove down the hill as if on autopilot. As I neared the turn to my house, I realized I couldn't face my mother. She'd see how wrong things were and hover until I either confided in her or snapped altogether—the more likely scenario. Jasper and Alice were out too, for the very same reason, which left Emmett as my only option. I hadn't spoken to him in days. As much as I didn't want to call him, somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I shouldn't be alone.

I dug my phone out of the glove box and dialed his number, detouring through a housing development a few streets from mine. He answered after four rings.

"I'm coming over," I said after his curt greeting.

"Rose is here."

"Never mind then." I would've rather been alone with my misery than sit around with Emmett and Rosalie.

"No, come. I'll send her home." He didn't sound pleased. I couldn't help but wonder what I'd interrupted.

I parked behind Emmett's truck when I get to his house. As soon as I stepped onto the driveway, Rosalie appeared at the front door. She sent me a scathing look as she marched down the front walk toward her car, her perfect blonde curls bouncing on her back.

Emmett opened the door for me as I stepped onto the porch, extending his hand into the house. I walked around him and straight into the living room, collapsing on the threadbare sofa that was almost as familiar as the couch at my own house. He sat down in the leather recliner across from me, pulling the lever to release the foot rest which he propped his sock-clad feet on. He gave me a long, thoughtful look, but refrained from questioning me, which I suppose was the reason I'd felt compelled to go to his house over any other.

"Where're your parents?" I finally asked.

"Golfing."

"Sorry Rosalie had to leave."

He shrugged in his arrogant way. "She'll get over it."

"I hope so." I slumped down further into the couch, recalling Rose's icy glare. All at once I was very tired.

"So what's going on, Masen?"

"I don't know… nothing." I owed him more than that, but I was choking on the right words. I couldn't seem to string together a coherent thought.

"Are you going to tell me what happened the other night?"

"No."

"Alice thinks it's something bad… care to confirm or deny?" He eyed me, waiting for my response. When it didn't come he said, "I'll take that as confirmation."

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to grasp at words that wouldn't reveal too much. "I can't talk about it, but yeah, it's bad."

"What are you doing here? You've ignored me and everyone else for days. Why now?"

My explanation tumbled out before I could sensor it. "Everything's going to shit. Bella and I just had a blow out. She said she couldn't stand to look at me and then she left me sitting in her driveway. I'm sorry to show up here like this, but I didn't want to go home."

"She left you in her driveway? So… is it over?"

My stomach dropped out from under me. _Is it over?_ I'd only thought of that last exchange as an argument. She was tired and emotional… _I_ was tired and emotional. She couldn't have meant to end things.

My head hurt, a persistent throbbing behind my eyes. Emmett's living room was starting to feel like a sauna. I rubbed my hands over my face and tried to get a handle on myself. "I—I don't know."

"Jesus, Edward, are you okay?"

"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine."

"You've never fought with her, have you?"

"Not like this."

"Are you going to call her?"

"Should I?" Even close to a migraine, I second guessed asking Emmett for relationship advice.

"Nah, let her cool off. Call her tomorrow."

I considered his recommendation; it seemed reasonable, wise even.

"What do you have going on the rest of the day?" I asked.

"Nothing. I'd been planning on spending the day here with Rose." He raised his eyebrows suggestively, as if I needed a hint. "You've pretty much put a damper on that though, so feel free to hang out as long as you like."

**Thanks for reading and taking a moment to review. :)**


	21. Twenty One

**A/N – Just wanted to point out, Bella's going through a lot. Her emotions are all over the place, and she's taking her frustration out on Edward because she trusts and loves him more than anyone else. Yes, it's unfair, but that's how it is. As much as we want her to just open up and tell him everything (and same with him!), in my opinion, that wouldn't be at all realistic. Things will have to get worse before they can get better. Please bear with them, and me! :) **

**Also, I've posted two chapters from The Impossibility of Forgetting in alternate POVs. If you like that sort of thing, check them out! **

**All Twilight names and references belong to Stephenie Meyer. All original elements and plotlines belong to me. **

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Bella

My parents had been completely freaked out when I'd returned from my outing with Edward, shaking and tearful. They'd hovered all afternoon, doting on me, bringing hot tea and cookies to my room where I'd taken to my bed, already in pajamas. Charlie even went to the store for magazines and movies in an attempt to lure me out of my room, but it was a wasted trip. I couldn't face them.

I was so confused; every feeling that coursed through me had an opposite, a direct contradiction that made me feel like I was going crazy. I hated Riley, hated him more than I'd ever hated anyone, and yet a tiny, tiny part of me was shocked and upset by the news of his death. He was someone I knew. Someone I'd liked once, a long time ago. Now he was dead. Forever.

And Edward.

I loved him with everything in me, but he just didn't get it. Try as he might, he couldn't put himself in my shoes. He couldn't understand my mixed emotions, my doubt, the shame that threatened to consume me. I wasn't sure he could be everything I needed anymore.

The longer I laid in bed hidden beneath my duvet, the worse I felt. It wasn't fair, what I'd done to him, what I was continuing to do to him. My constant crying, the way I'd been unintentionally picking at him, using him as a punching bag on which to take out my frustrations. Just because I was miserable didn't mean he had to be.

It was a relief when my parents finally went to bed. I appreciated them and their support, I really did, but in twenty-four hours their attention had become stifling. Finally free of their worried gazes, I dragged my knitting and my comforter downstairs and got comfortable on the couch, preparing for another long night of edginess and insomnia.

_Promise you'll call me tonight if you can't sleep,_ Edward's voice nagged.

I shut him out, looping yarn around the needle.

_Please. I'll be awake anyway because I'll be too worried,_ he'd said, persistent as ever.

With a deep, sad sigh, I plucked my phone from the couch cushion beside me and dialed his number. Not because of my niggling fear or the earlier promises, but because I wanted to hear his voice. I owed him an apology.

"Hello?" he answered, groggy. Unhappy.

"Hey." A pause followed while I tried to figure out how to proceed. His end of the line was quiet, too. I wondered how mad he was; if he'd ever be able forgive me.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked.

I knitted a few stitches, the wool sliding easily through my fingers and around Esme's needles. "Yes… no…. You asked me to call if I couldn't sleep. I can't sleep, Edward."

"What do you want me to do?"

It went against everything I'd been working on the last few months to ask for help, to depend on him so completely. But I needed to see him. I'd made a mess of our day, said horrible, regrettable things, things I knew in my heart weren't even true. _Maybe it's over for you, because all you think about is revenge. Someone is dead and you're glad. _The words had been playing in my head since he'd sped down the driveway, each time making me sadder and sadder."I want you to come over, Edward."

"I thought you couldn't stand to look at me." There was unmasked contempt in his voice, but I couldn't blame him. He'd been so patient. It was only a matter of time before he snapped completely.

"I'm sorry," I said.

The only sound was the quiet clicking of my needles. I continued methodically, keeping my head busy as I waited for him to say something. "Are you knitting?" he finally asked.

"Um… yes."

"Put it down. I'll be there in ten minutes."

Despite nerves that were threatening to make me sick, I smiled. "Thank you. The front door will be unlocked. I'll be in the living room."

I waited eight minutes before making a mad dash for the foyer. I turned the lock on the front door, then sprinted barefoot back to the living room. I dove into the little nest I'd made for myself, breathing heavily, feeling a great sense of accomplishment at facing my irrational fear of the foyer.

Two minutes later I heard the front door open, then close. It was the first time since we'd started dating that Edward had shown up anywhere on time. The deadbolt slid into place with a soft _click_. His muffled footsteps grew closer, until his shadow ducked under the archway and rounded the couch.

I waited, buried under my fluffy duvet, watching as he took in the black and white movie playing on the television, the sound barely audible. When he finally looked at me, I gave him a small, rueful smile that seemed to soften him. He bent and picked up the pile of knitting needles and yarn that rested beside me and tossed it onto the ottoman as I sat up, making a space for him in the corner of the sectional.

He kicked off his shoes and sat in the warm spot I'd created, pulling me to his side. I spread the blanket over both of us, snuggling under his arm, my favorite spot to be, no matter what else was going on in my world.

"Hey, don't get too comfortable yet," he said.

I straightened and looked at him curiously. His sleepy eyes thawed the coldness that had taken up residence in my chest and I started to talk. "I'm so sorry, Edward. Today, that wasn't about you. You didn't deserve it. I didn't even mean it. I just—I don't know…"

He held my face in his hands. "I'm sorry too. I wasn't thinking. I'll try not to be so insensitive, okay?" He moved closer, his face inches from mine. My eyes went glassy and his image started to swim, blurry from my tears. "Don't cry, Bella," he whispered. "I can't kiss you if you're crying."

My hands covered his as he kissed me, deeper than he'd allowed earlier at the river, but I didn't care. At that moment I needed to feel him almost as much as I needed oxygen.

**Thanks for reading… let me know what you think?**


	22. Twenty Two

**All Twilight names and references belong to Stephenie Meyer. All original elements and plotlines belong to me.**

**Fair warning: This one's kind of sad.  
**

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Edward

The next week was like riding a roller coaster I couldn't escape. Every morning I'd sneak—stiff and sore and barely conscious—out of Bella's house, worried even in the gray dawn hours Charlie would wake and find me entangled with his daughter on the living room couch.

Bella braved school, sullen and edgy. Most days she spent the lunch hour with Rosalie. The few times she graced me with her presence, she barely spoke. Day after day, I'd swallow my questions and complaints, trying to convince myself that she needed time to recover and eventually she'd be more like herself again.

I was irritated and I was sad, but more than anything I felt used. Bella couldn't sleep alone. She called me late every night, usually after I'd already gone to my room to sulk. Once I was at her house, slipping in through the front door, nestling under her comforter, tucking her under my arm, things were okay again. We didn't watch television, we didn't kiss—hell, we didn't even talk—but somehow the knowledge that we could still be there for each other even though things were beyond shitty was enough.

And so a new sort of routine began. Long, awkward school days I sat through only because I knew when night fell, I'd be wrapped in Bella's warm comforter and her sweet scent. She'd let me hold her close and I'd try to convince myself that it was enough, that our nights made up for the fact that she was so obviously pulling away from me during the day.

She put on a fairly believable show of normalcy in front of our friends. She would laugh and hold my hand in the courtyard between classes. She'd driven an hour with Alice and Rose to attend my last away baseball game. She even sat next to me at Fork's later, smiling and talking to everyone but me.

That was the night I realized Alice wasn't buying into our charade. Just after we finished dinner she caught my eye and gave me her protective, maternal look, the one I'd seen a thousand times since my father's death. That practiced look spoke volumes. The confusion and concern that flitted through her eyes made me want to pull her out of the restaurant and tell her everything so she could fix the mess I was falling into. Then, just as quickly, she averted her gaze, as if she somehow sensed she should continue to pretend, just like Bella and me.

The most shameful part was I was a willing, if reluctant, participant. I went along with the sham during the day, then let Bella use me for comfort at night because I was terrified of rocking the boat. I couldn't bear the thought of her leaving me the way she did that Sunday in her driveway. She'd shredded a small part of me that day, a part that had been carefully stitched back together with fragile thread. I knew somewhere deep inside if that thread was to unravel, the damage wouldn't be easily repaired. I knew how broken Bella was, how severely hurt she was inside, so I took what I could get. No matter how artificial or empty or demeaning, I never turned down what little she offered.

It was a relief Wednesday when the lunch bell rang. I walked to the parking lot with Jasper and Alice, tuning them out as they chattered, eager to get into my Volvo for an hour of peace. Bella and I hadn't made lunch plans—it wasn't brought up at all—so I assumed she was planning to spend the hour with Rosalie.

I was surprised to see her waiting for me at my Volvo, her long brown hair shimmering in the sun. She climbed wordlessly into the car when I opened the door for her, and then waited for me to back out of my parking spot before asking if my mother was at work.

"Yeah," I answered, not sure why she cared. "She has tomorrow off."

"Let's go to your house then."

That had been my plan all along. "All right."

She was quiet during the ride, but she didn't seem as tense as she'd been the last few days. My hand itched to touch her, to hold her hand or slip under her hair, but I held back, scared to ruin the odd stillness that encircled us. The phrase_ calm before the storm_ swirled through my head, but I pushed it away, afraid I was becoming paranoid.

I pulled into the driveway and followed Bella up to the porch. Maggie was waiting in the foyer, her tail whirling in ridiculous circles as Bella bent to greet her. Maggie hadn't seen her in days and clearly missed her friend. The feeling was mutual; I hadn't seen Bella smile so wide in a long time. Inhibition and anxiety were gone from her body as she knelt down and kissed Maggie on the snout, whispering words I couldn't make out.

"What do you want to eat?" I asked when she'd finished loving on my dog.

"I'm not hungry."

"Are you sure?" I looked her up and down. The fact that she'd lost weight was obvious despite the looser clothing she'd taken to wearing. She'd been small to begin with. Now she was bordering on frail.

She exhaled in the exasperated way I'd become all too familiar with. "If I eat something, can we go upstairs after?"

"Why?" I asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

She shrugged a little too innocently. "I don't know… I haven't been in your room in awhile."

"Yeah, okay," I replied, still on guard. "What can I get you?"

"Um… cereal maybe?"

I got a box of Cheerios out of the pantry and filled an unreasonably large bowl. I poured whole milk over it even though I knew she preferred nonfat, then slid it across the table.

I filled my own bowl and sat down, watching out of the corner of my eye as she ate robotically but with surprising speed. Obviously she had something up her sleeve, a surreptitious plan she was intent on following, and I wondered—yet again—what the hell was going on in her head.

When both our bowls were empty I offer seconds. Bella declined. "You said we could go upstairs," she reminded me.

I dropped our dishes in the sink on the way out of the kitchen, a tremor of foreboding snaking up my spine as I climbed the stairs behind her.

She plopped down on my bed, leaning up against the headboard, mysteriously at ease. I was the opposite, my mind on overdrive, trying to figure out the motive behind our unexpected trip upstairs. I sat down in my desk chair, staring at my adorable, perplexing girlfriend.

"You don't want to sit with me?" she asked, her dark eyes wide and inviting.

"Oh, I do. I'm just trying to figure out what's going on with you today."

"Nothing." She smiled and patted the empty space next to her.

I moved to the bed, all of a sudden determined to take advantage of her mood swing into relative positivity. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't want to talk about that stuff, Edward."

"What _do_ you want to talk about?"

Her hand glided over my leg. "I'd rather not talk at all."

She leaned in, tilting her head slightly… she wanted me to kiss her?

I obliged because I knew what refusing would do to her already fragile self-esteem. My hands went to her face as she shifted closer, and I found myself thankful for the unforeseen moment of closeness, however weird it was.

It wasn't long before soft kisses became needy, almost frantic. All tongue and desperate, frenzied touches. Despite my reservations, I found myself getting swept away like I always did when we were together. I kissed her hard, holding her face to mine as her hands roamed, ignoring the warning bells that were clanging in my head.

When she crawled into my lap, blanketing me in her warmth, and I let my body relax, sliding down the headboard until we were more comfortable. For the first time in a long time, I let myself focus on how she felt. My doubts and anxiety began to fall away, leaving me breathless and way more worked up than I had any right to be.

Then her hands snaked under my shirt and began tugging at the button of my jeans. The reality of the situation came crashing down on me.

I rolled, breaking our kiss, gently nudging her off of me.

"What? What's wrong?" she demanded.

I brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. "What are you trying to do, Bella?"

Her cheeks flushed crimson as she scooted closer, aligning her body with mine. "I thought… I just thought we could spend some time together."

"You want to have sex?" I asked, disbelief getting the better of me.

She wound her arms around my neck and nestled closer. "Don't you want to?"

"No. I don't. Not like this."

"Why?" she asked, undeterred.

"I think a more relevant question would be—why do you want to?"

"Because."

"You're going to have to do better than that. Don't you think it's a little soon, Bella?"

She backed off, propping her head up on her hand. "No, Edward," her voice sharp and mocking. "It's not ever going to go away, you know that, right? It's not an injury I'll heal from and then forget all about. It's a part of me now—my new normal, just like you said."

"But still…" I began, not sure how to explain myself without hurting her feelings.

"But nothing," she said firmly. "I want to try. I need to know if I can go through with it."

I sat up, frustration sparking inside me. "Do you have any idea how fucked up that sounds?"

"Don't you think we should know sooner than later? What if I can't—what if I'm incapable of… intimacy?"

"Then we'll cross that bridge when it comes!"

She sat up too, facing off against me. After weeks of emptiness, her eyes were so bright and expressive I felt like I was sinking into them. "Wouldn't you rather know now, Edward? What if I can't give you that part of me? What if I never can?"

"I went eighteen years without sex and managed to survive. Don't you think I'm capable of waiting until you're completely ready? I'm not going to sleep with you just so we can see if it works out."

"That's stupid."

"Well, that's where I stand."

Her face fell into a deep, desperate frown. "Please, Edward." She took both of my hands in hers. "Please do this for me."

I almost always gave in to what she wanted, but not this time. I couldn't. "Tell me what this is really about—the truth."

Redness crept from her cheeks down across her neck. She wouldn't look at me. "I need this," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I need you to erase it for me, to replace it with something better… something gentle and loving and _real_."

I squeezed her hands, clutching them against my chest. "I wish I could do that for you," I said, hating myself for not being able to.

"You _can_."

"If I thought for a minute that you were right, that it would really erase your memories and your pain, I'd do it in a heartbeat. But you know it doesn't work like that. We'll be putting a Band Aid on a situation that needs so much more."

"You don't know that it won't work. You don't know for sure."

"No, I guess I don't, but I do know that the last weeks haven't been good. I know you're sad and frustrated. I know you've been pulling away from me and now, suddenly, you want me to sleep with you during our lunch hour. I know you won't talk to me, and until you do, I'm not even going to consider sleeping with you."

"Is that some kind of ultimatum?"

I groaned; it was as if she didn't want to hear me. "No. I'm not going anywhere, Bella. I'll wait as long as it takes for you to talk to me, for you to lean on me like I want you to, but until that happens I want to take things slow."

Her eyes had gone vacant again. She'd retreated to the cold, empty place she'd been hiding in for the last several days. I wasn't getting through to her and I wondered if that was my fault or hers.

"This is because of what happened isn't it? You don't want me like you used to."

"If that's really what you think… if that's the conclusion you've drawn over the last two weeks, then you're out of your goddamned mind." I realized how poor my choice of words was as soon as they left my mouth, but it was too late to take them back.

"I don't know what you want from me, Edward!"

"I want to protect you, to keep you from every having to go through anything even remotely unpleasant ever again. I want you to stop doubting me. I want you to stop shutting me out and more than anything, I want you to talk to me!"

"You want me to talk to you?" she demanded, her voice louder and more shrill than I'd ever heard. I'd put a chink in her armor.

"Yes! Please!" I said, preferring emotion of any kind to the vacancy I'd grown accustomed to.

"What is it you want to hear? Details? Do you want to know that the moment I saw Riley's face in the doorway I knew what he was going to do? How about this? The smell of smoke on his jacket is seared into my memory and now every time I smell cigarettes I get to relive the whole experience. Or maybe you'd feel better if you knew that I screamed for you, over and over, until he grabbed my throat and forced me to stop."

Tears flowed down her face, her make-up reduced to little rivers of black on her pink cheeks. I wanted to stop her, to wipe away her tears along with every one of the ugly memories she recounted, but I didn't—I couldn't—because I was too stunned to move, or speak, or even breathe.

"It hurt, Edward," she continued. "It was terrifying and it hurt. I prayed for you to rescue me, then I prayed for my dad to rescue me, and then I just prayed for it to be over."

I watched, almost in slow motion, as she curled in on herself, wilting before my eyes. I scooped her up and pulled her to me. She sobbed into my shirt, shaking in my arms, and a sharp, tight pain clutched my chest, like my heart was breaking with hers. I held her closer, wanting her to feel safe and secure, but I knew she didn't—that she might never.

It was too real for me. All along I'd wanted her to talk. I thought I needed to know what happened, but in reality I couldn't handle it. A long dormant feeling climbed up my throat, devouring me from the inside out. I buried my face in her hair and for the first time in years, I cried.

###

I dropped Bella off at home before heading back to school. She was a mess and I couldn't stomach the thought of her sitting through classes and then her last tutoring session of the school year. She could hardly put together a coherent sentence without tearing up.

I muddled through the rest of my day—classes, baseball, an awkwardly quiet dinner with my mom, all the while waiting. For what—I wasn't sure, but I knew something big was about to go down. Something that would define the future.

I headed up to my room to wait for Bella's inevitable phone call. She needed me at night and I took perverse comfort in knowing we still had that connection. For sleep alone, we were linked, no matter how bad everything else got.

It was late when my phone rang. The familiar ring tone shocked me out of the light sleep I'd unintentionally fallen in to. "I'm coming," I mumbled into the mouthpiece, at the same time yanking a sweatshirt over my head.

"No, stay where you are," Bella said, her words rushed. "I'm coming to your house."

"Why?"

"We'll talk when I get there, okay?"

Despite my inexperience with relationships, I knew nothing good could come from the words my girlfriend had just uttered. "Yeah, okay. Don't knock or Maggie will bark. Just come in."

I went back downstairs to unlock the front door, then fell onto the couch, worry and anxiety eating away at my stomach with such ferocity that after a few minutes I went back upstairs in search of Tums.

When her car pulled up outside, I knew. This was what we'd been moving toward since that awful night. The hourglass had finally run out of sand. It stood transparent and still, taunting me. Hurt began to creep in, weaseling its way into my chest. I could hardly breathe.

**Thanks for reading… let me know what you think?**


	23. Twenty Three

**All Twilight names and references belong to Stephenie Meyer. All original elements and plotlines belong to me.  
**

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Bella

I stood outside the Masens' front door for entirely too long, trying to summon the courage to go inside. What I needed to do was painfully clear. I couldn't let fear or selfishness stand in the way of making things right. I filled my lungs with cool night air and silently opened the front door.

He was waiting for me on the living room couch, his eyes tired and wary, his mouth set in a deep frown. For a split second I considered running back to my car and driving until sunrise, as far as I could get from what my life had become. Instead, I stood still as he looked me over, the messy knot I'd tied my hair into, my face, scrubbed clean of the runny make-up he last saw me wearing. His expression fell a little further when he noticed I was in jeans, like he might have been expecting me to stay over.

I gave him an empty smile and sat down next to him on the couch. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered. He clearly wasn't. "What's going on?"

My eyes darted around the room, taking in everything but him. "Did I wake you?"

"It's the middle of the night, Bella. Don't bullshit me. Why are you here?"

"I need to talk to you."

"You already said that."

I loved him so much. He thoroughly consumed every part of me. I wanted so badly to hug him, to kiss him, to lead him upstairs and lay with him in his bed, curled up under his thick quilt. I wanted that all, but I couldn't have it. Not anymore.

I let out a breath, words spilling with it. "I'm so sorry, Edward."

I surveyed him as the meaning behind my words, my visit, sank in. I was careful to keep my eyes void, but he stared into them anyway, searching, his mouth silent and still.

"Say something," I said, reaching up to tuck a stray piece of my hair back in place. I tried my best to appear unaffected, as if that would somehow lessen the blow. _I don't care anymore, so you shouldn't either. _

"What the hell do you want me to say?"

"I'm sorry. I just need to take a step back from everything."

"Is this about what happened at lunch today?"

"No. I've been thinking about it for awhile, but lunch…" A shudder ripped through me at the memory. "What happened today solidified things. It woke me up to how messed up I am, how much I'm messing you up. I can't let things go on this way. It's not fair to you."

"Don't make it about me, Bella. I'm fine—I'll be fine."

"That's just it. You're not fine and you don't even realize it. You can't see what's best for yourself because you're blinded by what's best for me."

"God, Bella! _You're _what's best for me! Can't you see that?"

"No," I said shaking my head. "Not anymore. I'm a parasite, draining the life out of you. I see it every time I look at you. Every time I say something cruel, every time I shy away, I see it in your eyes. I can't hurt you anymore."

"You're hurting me now!"

It was awful, wounding him this way, more so than I'd imagined, more so than I'd prepared myself for. He was trampled and broken, a shell of himself. And I was the one to blame. "This will be the last time," I whispered.

"Things will get better," he insisted. I hadn't been excepting him to argue, not like this. He was always been so stoic, so even-keeled, but he was falling apart before me. His wide, frantic eyes were begging me to change my mind. But I couldn't. He threw his dignity out the window and plowed ahead. "You'll get better, Bella, _we'll_ get better. It won't always be this hard."

Maybe not for him. "I'm not the person I was before. I don't know if I'll ever be that girl again. What if, when the dust settles, I'm not who you want?"

"You'll always be who I want. How many times do I have to tell you—what happened hasn't changed the way I feel. I love you. I'll _always_ love you."

It wasn't that I didn't believe him. I knew his words were sincere, but that was because he didn't know better. He needed distance to figure out what he really wanted. I knew he would never back off on his own. He was too decent, blinded by what he thought was right. I was the only one who could give him the space he needed. "You think that now, Edward, but you'll move on," I told him, my voice cool and indifferent. "There's someone better for you."

His eyes glazed over until he was glaring at me, furious, his mouth hanging open like he couldn't believe what I'd said. I'd pissed him off; hurt him so deeply he didn't have anything left.

Tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision. I frantically blinked them back, knowing he'd grasp on to any sign of weakness. I swallowed the sob that rose in my throat. "I'm sorry," I said when could trust my voice.

"Stop apologizing," he snapped. "Don't you see what you're doing? You're going to make us both miserable because of some misguided attempt to save me."

My composure faltered again, until I remembered lunch time. The look of sheer horror on his face when I'd told him I'd screamed for him, his hot tears slipping down my neck as he held my shaking body to his. I couldn't do that to him again. "I know it seems like that now," I said, nearly patronizing. "But someday you'll see. This is the right thing to do."

"How can you be so calm?" he asked, his fists clenched tight atop his knees. "You sound like you're reading from a goddamn script! You've been a wreck for two weeks and now you're sitting here all cool and collected, telling me you know what's best?"

"I've had a lot of time to think. When you're able to step back and look at things, I think you'll come to the same conclusions."

"You're delusional if you believe I'm better off without you," he said. "Please, Bella. Give me a chance to take care of you. I know I screwed up, I wasn't there when you needed me and I fucking hate myself for it, but I can make it up to you. Let me try."

Sadness splashed over me like cold water. He thought this is because I was mad? That I held him responsible? "No. None of it is your fault. You can't fix it for me. I have to work through it on my own and I have no idea how long that will take."

"I'll wait."

"I don't want you to." But I did. Down in the deepest, most selfish part of me, I wanted him to wait. The thought of him moving on, loving someone else the way he loved me, split my heart in two.

"So you've decided and that's it? I get no say in any of this?"

"No, Edward. Not this time."

"You're saying these things like you don't care—like you never cared."

"You have no idea what this is like for me," I said quietly.

"And you have no idea what this is like for me!"

My body stiffened at his raised voice. "You're right. I don't know what you're going through, but I have a pretty good idea that your days are filled with worry and guilt and I know that you're nights aren't much better. Please, let me make things right for you. Let me give you your life back."

He grabbed my hands, physical contact I'd been intent on avoiding. "_You're _my life. I want _you_."

"No," I whispered, shaking my head back and forth. "I can't." He stared in shock as I pried my hands from his. "Please, Edward. Don't call me."

With that, I walked from the room, choking back sobs that were trying desperately to escape. I felt it then. The devastating pull, like I was tethered to him. The awful, terrifying feeling that I couldn't possibly live without him. I breathed deeply in the foyer, fighting the almost overpowering urge to go back to him. To beg him for forgiveness.

I didn't. It wasn't about me anymore. I loved him too much to torture him any longer.

When I made it outside, I leaned up against the red front door and let the tears fall, vaguely surprised there were any left. He didn't follow me. He didn't come for me. I seriously doubted he'd call. It was what I wanted, what we both needed. Why, then, did it feel like I'd left the very best part of me with him?

**I know, I know... Thanks for reading… let me know what you think?**


	24. Twenty Four

**I'm excited about all of the new people who are following this story. Um... welcome! :)**

**So sorry for the sad chapter on Sunday. Poor Edward and Bella... They're going to get their shit together eventually. Promise. **

**All Twilight names and references belong to Stephenie Meyer. All original material belongs to this author. **

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Edward

Alice was sitting at my desk Friday night when I got home from the gym. Her company wasn't welcome. Since had Bella broken up with me two nights before, I'd avoided my friends completely. I silently cursed my mother for not warning me of Alice's presence, but then I hadn't give her much chance to speak as I rushed through the kitchen without making eye contact.

I threw my bag down in front of my closet and glowered at my friend.

"How are you, Edward?" I hated the sympathy in her voice.

"Shitty. Where's your car?"

"I figured if you saw it parked outside you'd drive right by. I had Jasper drop me off."

I rolled my eyes at how well she knew me. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to check on you."

"I have a mother, Alice. Go home."

"I can't. Not until you talk to me."

I huffed and kicked my shoes off. "That's not going to happen."

"I'll stay until you do."

"You better make yourself comfortable then."

"I will." She retrieved her school bag from under my desk and took out a paperback book, opening it with exaggerated page shuffling. She began to read, drumming her fingernails against my desk every so often, probably to remind me that she was still there. I turned on my TV, the volume unnecessarily loud, and zoned out while Sports Center aired.

After awhile, my mom poked her head into my room and invited us downstairs for dinner.

"I'm not hungry," I said.

"Alice?"

"Sure, Esme, thanks." She closed her book. "I'll be back," she hissed before closing the door behind her.

I rolled to my side and buried my face in my pillow—Bella's pillow. Her scent was fading. I dreaded the day I couldn't detect her on it at all.

The last forty-eight hours had been the worst of my life, rivaled only by the days following my dad's death. I couldn't sleep, I had no appetite, and I could barely speak to people without snapping at them—I'd discovered it was better to keep my mouth shut entirely.

And the pain… I could feel Bella's absence physically, as if a gaping hole had been drilled through my chest and everything good had been drained out. Even when I shut it all out, forced myself to think of other things, the pain was there—a constant reminder of everything that had gone wrong.

It was worse when I saw her at school.

She was vigilant about avoiding me in the parking lot and in the courtyard. The few times we'd been within twenty feet of each other, she'd slipped away before I could move a step closer. Math was the most horrible. I'd stare at the back of her head for an hour, and then when the bell rang, she'd be up and out of her seat in an instant, moving swiftly to the door, leaving me in a whirlwind of chestnut hair and lavender breeze. It was hard to pick myself up after those brief encounters.

Through my misery, I could hear Alice and my mother downstairs, their voices a soft hum behind silverware clanking against china. I knew they were talking about me; they always did when they got together, but this was different. They were worried. I'd barely spoken to my mom and the few times I had, well, it hadn't been pleasant. And poor Alice… the sight of her and Jasper together in Chemistry the day before had been enough to turn my stomach. Then she'd gone and asked me about Bella. I'd said things I regretted, things Jasper probably should have knocked me out for, but they'd both been too dumbfounded by my hatefulness to react. Jasper hadn't spoken to me since, not even at our game the day before, the last of the season.

It all stemmed back to Bella. Time and again, I fought the urge to call and tell her how she'd yanked the life out of me, how she'd shattered my heart, how in all of ten minutes she'd crushed me.

I wanted to hate her, but I couldn't.

I loved her. I'd let myself go, became vulnerable, made myself incapable of _not_ loving her.

My bedroom door opened, but I left my eyes closed, hoping Alice would give up.

"Knock it off, Edward. I know you're not asleep. I brought you food."

I groaned and turned to face her. "I'm not hungry."

"Please? Your mom made you a grilled cheese, just how you like it."

The smell of the sandwich hit me and made my stomach rumble. Out of nowhere, I was starving. I sat up and took the plate from her, sopping up some ketchup with the edge of the sandwich.

"Does this mean you forgive me for yesterday?" I asked between bites.

"Well, I don't exactly appreciate being called a 'nosy bitch' in front our entire Chemistry class, but I've learned since that you had your reasons."

"Still, I'm sorry. I was an asshole and you didn't deserve it."

"If you're going to apologize, it should be to Jasper. He's more upset than I am."

"He's not exactly speaking to me right now."

"He will."

She went back to her reading as I ate and I took a bit of comfort in the fact that no matter how horrible I was, my friends would never abandon me.

I finished my sandwich and took the plate downstairs before returning to my room. I searched my dresser—tidy, thanks to Bella—for something to sleep in.

"What are you doing?" Alice asked. She was watching, confused, as I yanked flannel pants and a faded t-shirt from one of the drawers.

"I'm going to change," I said, heading for the bathroom. "I'm going to bed."

"But it's only seven-thirty," she called after me.

"Go home, Alice!" I shouted back, slamming the door behind me.

I wasn't so lucky. She was still sitting at my desk, more determined than ever, when I returned a few minutes later. I collapsed on my bed, avoiding her gaze because I knew the disapproving look she'd be wearing.

"You can't go to bed, Edward."

"Watch me." I rolled toward the wall, turning my back on her, hoping that for once in her life, Alice would take a hint.

All I wanted was to sleep, but my mind was too busy to relax. Still, I longed for it. It was the only time I was free, short spurts of time I didn't have to relive my last conversation with Bella or second guess every word that had left my mouth or wish I'd done something different.

"Edward?" Alice said softly.

"What?" I asked the wall.

"Do you want to know the real reason I'm here?"

"No."

She sighed in her familiar way. "Bella asked me to come."

My heart skipped a beat at the sound of her name and a fresh wave of hurt rolled through me, opening the wound, churning my insides. For all I knew, Bella had left my house Wednesday night and hadn't entertained another thought about me. _Bella asked me to come._ That phrase, as harmless as it was, could've meant a thousand things, but it gave me hope. Hope was dangerous.

"She asked me to check on you," Alice continued, blind to the torment her simple words were doing. "She sent a couple of your sweatshirts with me. I put them in your closet."

"Great."

"She's worried about you."

"Yeah, well, she's lost that right," I said, my bitterness unconcealed.

"Okay, but _I'm_ worried about you, too."

"What's new?"

"This is different and you know it. You're a mess."

"I can't talk to you."

"Yes, you can. I'm not in the dark anymore. When Bella and I talked today… well, she told me a little bit about what happened. I'm so sorry, Edward. I knew it was bad, but I had no idea it was something like this."

I turned to face her. "Why'd she tell _you_?"

"Because I'm her friend too," Alice said indignantly. "Mostly, though, she wants you to have someone to talk to, someone who knows what's going on, someone who can be there for you." She gave me a little smile. "Now I can be that someone."

"No offense, but I don't want you. I want _her_."

"I know I can't fix things, but I might be able to help."

"I need to get through this on my own."

"Please don't torture yourself. I know how you are, how you've always been, but don't you think you deserve a friend right now?"

"No," I said, but I was wavering.

"Don't shut me out, Edward. You can trust me."

I thought back over the last few weeks to all the times I'd wished I could talk to someone and wasn't able to. Bella had so thoroughly destroyed my walls of privacy, smashed them to dust and rubble. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't build them back up again. As much as I wanted to keep it all private, to suffer in silence, eager words were collecting on my tongue.

"All right, Alice, fine. What do you want to talk about?"

Her eyes practically bugged out of her head before she recovered and composed herself. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"I don't even know where to start… I miss her."

"Why'd she end it?"

I sighed deeply. "She said she needed to take a step back to figure things out, that she needed to learn how to survive on her own."

"And you don't get that?"

"No, I don't. She thinks she's dragging me down. She said our relationship was parasitic."

"Wow."

"I know." Resentment welled up inside me, raw and hot. "I don't get how she could do this, how she could have doubts about us. I know she thinks her reasons make sense, but she just decided, you know? She'd already made up her mind when she came here and nothing I could've said would've changed it."

Alice pondered in silence, her eyes focused on me. "You probably don't want to hear this, but I get where she's coming from. Think about it, Edward. She had all her power stolen away in a matter of minutes and now she's broken and confused. She has to rebuild on her own. You can't do it for her."

"I don't want to," I said, even though I did. "I just want to be there for her. She can't do it alone, can she?"

"I don't know. Maybe she needs time?" Alice the Optimist.

"No. She said she didn't want me to wait, that it wouldn't be fair."

She studied me for a long minute, her pale eyes full of sympathy while I stared back, hoping she'd have some insightful advice that'd miraculously solve all my problems.

"But you're going to wait anyway, aren't you?" she finally asked, her voice soft.

I simply shrugged. We both knew the answer to her question.

"Do you think that's in your best interest?"

"Give me a break, Alice. Do you think that matters?"

"I just want you to be smart."

I snorted cynically. Alice led a charmed life. She'd never had to face anything more challenging than a flat tire. "What if Jasper broke up with you tomorrow? What if he stopped caring about you? Would you give a shit about being smart?"

Her mouth turned down into a frown as she considered my scenario. "No, I guess I wouldn't." She rose from her chair and came to sit next to me on the bed. "But Bella hasn't stopped caring about you."

Those were the last words I wanted to hear. Somehow it was easier to deal if I kept up the belief that she wanted nothing to do with me, that her feelings had been stripped away. "You don't know that," I said quietly.

"Yes, I do, otherwise she never would have asked me to come here."

"Please—"

"It's true. She's just as torn up as you are."

I stayed quiet for a long while, absorbing Alice's words. And then I whispered, "I want her back," the first time I'd verbalized what was a constant in my head.

"You have to let her go, at least for now."

I shook my head and stared down at the plaid pattern on my pants because the sorrow simmering under the surface made me afraid to meet her eyes. "I can't let her go, Alice. She's part of me now. I can barely breathe without her."

###

Alice called Jasper to pick her up a little while later. She was apparently satisfied with the amount soul baring I'd done because she didn't push me to talk anymore. I walked her to the front door where she hugged me and made me promise to answer my phone the next time she called. When Jasper pulled up, she skipped down the driveway to meet him, probably relieved to be back in her bubble of carefree positivity.

I went upstairs to bed the moment Jasper's taillights disappeared around the corner and suffered another night of fitful sleep, waking every hour or so, confused as to why grief was bearing down on me, heavy and tight in my chest. Then reality would hit me and I'd lay awake with my head spinning until exhaustion over took me and the cycle began again.

I was startled awake Saturday morning by a persistent knocking at my bedroom door. I opened my eyes to bright midmorning light and cursed my mother under my breath for interrupting the only dreamless sleep I'd had in days.

"What?" I called, my voice groggy.

She opened the door and poked her head in. "Oh, I'm glad you're awake."

"I'm not."

"You are now, and I need a favor."

"I'll do whatever you want—later. I'm going back to sleep."

"Edward, it's after ten. I need you to go to the store for me. I'm in the middle of making cookies and I've run out of baking soda."

"Why can't you go?"

"Because I have a batch in the oven already, I can't leave them."

"Shouldn't you be at work?"

"I'm going in for the later shift today." She reached for my quilt and began to tug. "Enough stalling… I won't bother you for the rest of the day if you go to the store right now."

That offer was too appealing to pass up. "All right, but I'm showering first."

She was already headed back down the stairs, but called, "Hurry!"

I did, but only because I wanted to get back home. I showered, threw on jeans and a ratty t-shirt, then hustled to the grocery store, snagging a parking spot right up front. I wandered the aisles for a few minutes, searching for baking supplies and then drew a blank as I stood in front of a sea of small gold boxes and little white cans. I couldn't remember if Esme had said baking powder or baking soda. I fished my phone out of my pocket and called her, shaking my head as she laughed and said, "Baking soda."

The only register open had five people waiting, just my luck, apparently. I got in line behind a girl long brown hair and a very full shopping cart.

As I waited, trying not to appear as impatient as I felt, the girl in front of me flipped her shiny hair over her shoulder. Right away I was struck by how similar it was to Bella's. For a second I thought I was going crazy, seeing her in places she clearly wasn't, but the dark silkiness of the girl's hair was unbelievably familiar. If she hadn't been several inches taller than Bella, I would have sworn it was her.

"Emily," a voice called from behind me, "Check to make sure I put bananas in the cart, would you?"

_Emily?_

And then Bella's mother squeezed past me to join her older daughter with a courteous, "Excuse me." I'd never wanted to disappear more in my life. I crossed my arms and tried to duck under the bill of my hat, a pitiful effort at remaining incognito.

I watched her dump an armload of canned goods on top of the other food in her cart, silently begging her not to turn around.

She did of course, to grab a pack of gum off the rack that stood beside me. She met my gaze with a little gasp of surprise. "Edward!"

Emily turned around at the sound of my name, shock and interest mingling in her expression. She was beautiful like Bella, though her eyes were even darker. She had an academic look about her, from the conservative sweater she wore to the little glasses that perched on her nose. She looked wise beyond her years. I wondered what Bella had told her about me.

"Emily, this is Edward," Renee said, at last recovering from her surprise.

I extended my hand to Bella's sister in an effort to be polite, even though there was something weird about the idea of touching her. I could tell she felt the same way by her weak handshake and its abrupt ending. "I've heard a lot about you," she said, clearing up that mystery.

"How have you been, honey?" Renee asked, patting my arm in a way that made me feel pathetic.

"I'm okay."

"We've missed seeing you."

I willed her to shut up. I wasn't up to having such a conversation, not in a grocery store, and especially not with Bella's sister staring at me like I was some sort of freak. The line moved forward. I prayed the cashier would pick up his pace so I could get the hell out of there.

Renee lowered her voice and leaned toward me. "Emily came down for the weekend to see Bella. She's not doing so well."

I took deep, slow breaths because my stomach suddenly felt very queasy. "I'm sorry to hear that," I offered. My attempt to seem in control was making me sound insincere, but I wasn't sure how to fix that. I figured indifference was less disturbing than a complete emotional breakdown at register three. "I haven't talked to her in a few days," I added on the off chance Renee didn't know what happened between her daughter and me.

"I hope you don't think Charlie or I had anything to do with her decision to, uh, take a break."

I'd never considered that, though it would have been an easier alternative to the real reason Bella left me. "No, I know it had nothing to do with you," I assured her.

We moved forward again, Emily rolling the cart while shooting me a sympathetic look.

"We tried to discourage her from ending things," Renee went on, fiddling with the strap of her purse. "We thought it was a terrible idea."

_Is she oblivious to the humiliation she's causing me?_ "Yeah, well…" I trailed off, looking down at my shoes.

"But I'm sure you know how Bella can be—very black and white. When she sets her mind to something, there's usually no changing it."

"That's been my experience."

"She's got so much to deal with as it is. She's not sleeping well and she hardly eats. You were there with her from the start… I keep hoping she'll have a change of heart."

"Me too," I said quietly.

Renee opened her mouth and then closed it like she'd changed her mind about whatever it was she'd wanted to say. I stood, painfully uncomfortable, clutching my box of baking soda, trying to figure out what she could have possibly left unsaid.

The line moved again and Emily began to load groceries onto the conveyer belt, though not fast enough for my liking. After what felt like hours, Renee noticed what her daughter was doing and started to help. I was left alone with my thoughts.

The cashier completed their transaction and handed Bella's mother a long receipt. I dared to hope we were done, that the nightmare had come to a close. Renee pushed her cart, laden with full paper bags, out of my way, and then waited while the cashier scanned my lone item. I handed him cash and pocketed my change before facing her once more. "Well, maybe I'll see you around sometime," I said, hoping the opposite proved true.

"Yes, I hope so." Renee took a step toward me and spoke in a hushed tone. "I want you to know, I'm very sorry about all this, Edward. I blame myself. If I hadn't left her alone, none of this would have happened." She sniffed and blinked several times. "What kind of mother am I?"

"It's not your fault," I told her. The threat of her tears forced me to pat her shoulder. The irony of the situation was absurd. "You shouldn't blame yourself."

We stood in the front of the grocery store for a few seconds, the silence unnerving. Finally, Emily ran a hand through her hair—the startling reminder of Bella—and saved me. "Mom, don't you think you've tortured Edward enough for one day? Why don't we let him take his baking soda home?"

I returned her smile with a weak one of my own, then fought the urge to run to my Volvo.

**Thanks for reading. :) How'd I do?**


	25. Twenty Five

**I know, I know... this is sort of a short one. More to come on Wednesday...**

**Happy Halloween!**

**All Twilight names and reference belong to Stephenie Meyer. All original material belongs to this author. **

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Bella

Emily never knocked before entering a room. It wasn't her nature. She was one of those people who felt that her presence was always wanted, welcomed. I was hardly surprised late Saturday morning when she barged into my room, looking awfully entitled for someone who was really just a houseguest. I closed my eyes and faked sleep, easy since I was still in bed, buried beneath sadness and my duvet.

I peeked through tiny slits in my eyelids as she wandered my room, stopping for a moment by my mirror to look at the drying flowers that still hung there, tied with satin ribbons. "Morbid," I heard her mutter before she spun to face me. "Silly girl! I know you're not asleep," she said, her effervescence an immediate nerve grinder. She went to my window and threw the curtains back, flooding the room with bright, unwelcome light. "Let's go out today. Maybe to shop, or we can have lunch in town, or just go for a drive. It's beautiful outside."

She plopped down on my bed and yanked on my comforter. "Stop," I grumbled, pulling it over me again.

"Come on, Bella. You can't stay in bed all day. Let's go out to the pool. That's not something I can do during May in Chicago."

"No," I said, turning away from her. I was content to stay in bed, away from the prying eyes of my family.

"Are you telling me I came all this way just to watch you sulk?"

"Nobody asked you to come."

"Wrong. Charlie and Renee did. They're worried about you."

"They shouldn't be."

"Really? You've always been so good at bouncing back. They don't know what to make of the depressed teenager who's taken up residence with them. I think if you would just try—"

"Try what?" I snapped. "To smile? To be a little more cheerful? Act like nothing's wrong? You have no idea what I'm going through. You can't begin to understand."

My sister was infuriating. What she didn't get was that I _was_ trying. I wanted to feel better, to be normal, but I just couldn't. My life had become too much to deal with, too overwhelming to face. Losing Edward on top of the guilt and shame Riley had forced on me was the same as being stuck in a rip tide, like being sucked out to shark infested waters.

I'd fallen to my lowest point and I knew it. What I couldn't seem to get a handle on was how to climb out.

"I'm sorry," my sister said, more serious than before. "I know you're sad. I'm sad too. So are Mom and Dad. We're just trying to help."

"You can help by going away. I don't want to go shopping or to lunch. I definitely don't want to go in the pool. I just want to be alone."

She reached over to smooth my hair. "But, Bella, you're not alone. You have me. You have Mom and Dad. You have your friends." She ran a hand over my hair again and softly said, "You've got The Boy."

It was worse than being slapped, the casual way she spoke of him. I'd regretted ending things with him since the moment I stepped outside his front door. My body reacted physically, an intense hurt deep in my chest. I was instantly tearful. I'd been trying to avoid thinking of him. It was easier to pretend he'd never ridden in like a knight in shining armor that night in early March, rescuing me from the lonely parking lot, filling my life with laughter and fun and love.

I'd been avoiding Alice's calls, not wanting to hear about her visit with him. If he was happy, I'd be hurt. If he was unhappy, I'd be hurt. It was easier to pretend our relationship had been a dream, a brief and pleasant escape. It was easier to imagine he didn't exist at all.

"I don't have him," I told my sister, wiping angrily at my tears.

"You could," she said.

"No. He hates me now."

She was quiet for a long time; so long I turned toward her, wondering what silenced her. "Mom and I saw him today," she said, unable to look at me. "He was at the grocery store."

I had a thousand questions, but I bit them back. It would hurt too much to hear the answers. I sat up, looking directly into her eyes. "I don't want to know, Emily. I don't want to talk about him. I mean it."

She ignored my warning. "He's miserable, just like you."

Time stopped. The air went still. The house was silent while I processed her statement. "You talked to him?" I whispered.

"Briefly. You know how Renee is, all courteous and chatty. He put on a fairly convincing show, but I could tell. He was about two seconds from falling apart. He adores you, Bella. It's obvious. If you wanted to, you could call him."

"No," I said, shaking my head.

"Why not?"

"I've made a mess of everything. He was suffering when we were together. I can't do that to him again."

"Well, from the looks of things, he's still suffering. Why don't you let him decide whether or not he wants to be with you?"

"Because I already know what he'd decide. What kind of guy would dump his girlfriend after she was raped? He's very clear about right and wrong, Emily. He'd stay with me. I know he would, but not necessarily because he wanted to. I won't put him in that position."

"I still think you should call him," she said, patting my arm. The wicked gleam in her eye threw me until she smirked and said, "He's _so_ hot."

I stared at her, incredulous, then burst into hysterical laughter, inappropriate giggles coming between out of control sobs. "You're awful," I stuttered, wiping tears from my cheeks.

"I know, but I made you smile." She pulled me into a hug. "I love you, Bells, and I know it probably doesn't feel like it now, but you're going to be okay."

###

It wasn't long after that my parents called me downstairs for what they termed a 'family meeting.' It looked more like an intervention, my mom, dad, and sister sitting in a solemn half-circle on the living room couch.

"What's going on?" I asked, perching on the arm of the couch.

"You're going to therapy," my father announced without preface.

My mom shot him a disapproving look and took a different, equally frustrating approach. "Bella, we can't stand to see you this way. You're not sleeping. You hardly eat. You're clearly depressed. You need someone to talk to, someone who can help you in ways we can't. Your father and I think it's time you see a therapist."

"You'll start on Monday," my dad said. "You're scheduled to go twice a week until you feel better."

My gaze jumped to each of them, my family members, the people I was supposed to be able to count on. I took them in, the lines of concern etched across my parents' faces, sympathy swirling in Emily's eyes. It all struck me as insincere. They were at a loss on how to deal with me, how to fix me. They were passing me off. They were giving up.

It felt like a betrayal, the way they'd decided without consulting me, without asking if I was willing to talk to a complete stranger about problems I could barely stand to think of. They'd taken away my right to decide, snatched up the last little shred of power—meaningless as it probably was—that I had over my life.

"Fine," I said, standing to leave the room. I was too demoralized to argue, or maybe I'd just forgotten that that I _could_.

I'd lost a lot of myself over the last couple of weeks. The fun, spirited girl I'd become after moving to Ridgeville had hidden in the shadows the night Riley forced himself into the house. I was desperate to find her, to let her know I hadn't forgotten about her, that she'd be able to resurface someday. Maybe when I was better, as my dad had so sensitively put it.

Upstairs in the privacy of my room, I sat down at my computer and gave the mouse a little jiggle. The screen came alive. Without really knowing what I was doing, I began to search the different flower data bases I'd book-marked in the past, scrolling through pictures of pansies and lilacs, foxgloves and hydrangeas.

I wasn't sure what I was looking for until I found it. The image was perfect, a cluster of blue forget-me-nots on a background of green leaves. It brought me back to that night, weeks ago, the first time I'd shown Edward my rooms. My paintings.

"_When will I get one?"_

_I giggled at the thought, sure he was kidding. "I don't think flowers go with all of the pennants and game balls and trophies you've got in your bedroom."_

"_I don't care."_

_I glanced up to assess his seriousness. "Okay… I'll do one for you this summer," I said when I saw he was unwavering. _

"_What kind of flowers will I get?" _

_Good question. There were so many that would have fit. "Hmm… forget-me-nots, I think. You can hang it in your dorm room next year so you won't forget about me."_

_He kissed the top of my head and in the most solemn voice I'd ever heard out of him said, "I don't think you need to worry about that, Bella."_

The memories that surfaced at the sight of the delicate little flowers made me sad, but their cheerful sunbursts of yellow gave me a weird sense of hope, too. I printed the picture, folded it into a compact square and tucked it into the frame of the mirror at my vanity, hoping someday I'd feel motivated to paint again.

**Thanks for reading... I'd love to know what you thought!**


	26. Twenty Six

**All Twilight names and reference belong to Stephenie Meyer. All original material and plot lines belong to this author. **

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Edward

I caught glimpses of Bella at school over the two weeks that followed, rare occurrences that brought fresh swells of hurt.

I think I was depressed. At the very least, I'd become a shell of a person, unable to see much good in anything. My mother had acted similarly after my father's death, and even at ten I'd been able to see how damaging her hopelessness was. What I hadn't understood then was how far she'd fallen, how difficult it must have been for her to crawl out of that hole knowing her husband was dead. But she had. That gave me a tiny sliver of hope. Bella wasn't dead. She'd broken up with me—it wasn't the end of the world.

But it _felt_ like the end of the world. Our relationship felt like a figment of my imagination, like an amazing dream I'd awoken from too soon. I had to remind myself that she was real, that _we_ were real.

Friday arrived, the last day of high school. It was also the last day I'd get to stare at Bella's glossy hair for an entire class period, the last day I'd see her with any regularity. I had mixed feelings.

The day was unremarkable, filled with yearbook signing and graduation practice that took up the entire afternoon. The whole school cheered when the final bell rang. All of it passed me by like I was a spectator, one door slamming shut as another stood wide open. I walked to the parking lot trying not to let my sour mood consume me, wondering if I would've enjoyed my last days as a high school senior if Bella had been by my side.

My friends were waiting for me by my Volvo. Emmett and Jasper had cut me a lot of slack, ignoring my sullen silences and almost constant scowl, avoiding topics that could've been a reminder of Bella. I had no idea what they knew—Alice had serious issues with keeping her mouth shut—but it wasn't as if what happened to Bella was harmless gossip.

All three of them looked conspiratorial and much too excited for my taste. Alice was bouncing on her toes, carrying on about how we were graduates and how our 'real' lives could finally start. She'd been very good to me, offering advice when she could, talking me out the pitiful gestures of grandeur I'd considered in moments of desperation. I reminded myself not to rain on her parade.

"You're coming over tonight, right Masen?" Emmett asked as I unlocked my door.

"I don't think so."

"Come on! My parents are gone for the weekend and my brother promised to disappear after he delivers the keg. We're celebrating graduation!" He slapped my shoulder, grinning, and I found myself envious of his unshatterable happiness.

"I'm not really in the mood for celebrating. I can't deal with a crowd."

"It's not a big deal, just a few people," Alice said while Emmett shook his head with obvious exaggeration. His parties were always a big deal.

"Yeah, come on, Edward. You're going to miss us next year," Jasper said.

"We have all summer."

"But this is _graduation_!" Emmett reminded me. "We can't let it pass without proper acknowledgement."

My resolve faltered. Some of their excitement was rubbing off, so I used the only excuse I knew they couldn't argue with. "I don't think my mother will want me to go. You guys know how she is about parties and drinking."

"I told her about it the other night when I stopped by Petals," Alice said. "She asked me make sure you go. She wants you to enjoy yourself."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "I don't like you and my mother plotting against me."

She wasn't concerned in the least. "Now you have no excuses."

"Is Rosalie going to be there?" Rose had been treating me as if I had the plague, more out of loyalty to Bella, probably, than anything else. She threw scathing looks my way whenever our paths crossed, which was more often than I would've liked since she'd become Emmett's shadow.

He adjusted his hat, not meeting my eyes. "Yeah, later, but I'll tell her to play nice."

"I can't go. What if she brings—?"

"She won't," Alice said. "I already told her not to."

"Well, I guess you've thought of everything," I said.

"Yep! So you'll come?"

I exhaled loudly. "I guess."

"I can't wait!"

She skipped off to her car, dragging Jasper by the hand while he shouted, "Are we still on for the gym tonight?"

"Yeah, I'll see you at six," I yelled back.

###

Jasper and I hit the gym a few hours later, fitting in a quiet work-out before Emmett's party. Even though I'd put up a fight, I was starting to look forward to hanging out with my friends. I needed a break from my gloom and sitting around Emmett's basement, watching my drunken classmates act like fools, was the best kind of distraction.

Jasper and I showered at the gym, and then walked out to our cars together. He looked at me skeptically when I told him I was going home for dinner before heading to Emmett's—like I might bail on them after all.

"I'll be there, Jasper."

"You know how sentimental Alice is. She wants this night of fun before graduation and she'll be crushed if you're not there."

"I swear I'll be there, if only so I don't have to face her wrath for skipping out."

I must've convinced him because he let me get into my car without another word. I drove home, the sky tinted purple with the setting sun, listening to radio and trying to pump myself up about the night ahead.

As I turned onto my street, I was surprised to see a vaguely familiar Mercedes parked behind my mother's car. I pulled up next to the curb, grabbed my bag from the backseat, and walked to the front door, trying to figure out who was visiting.

The first thing I heard when I opened the door was deep, masculine laughter. I tensed at the alien sound of it. I paused, trying to figure out what was going on, then curiosity got the better of me and I strode into the kitchen.

Maggie trotted over to greet me. I absently pet her head as I stared, open-mouthed, at my mother and my baseball coach sitting together at the kitchen table. To my knowledge—which I was beginning to realize was pretty limited—Coach Cullen had never set foot in my house. And yet, there he sat, looking quite at home in our bright kitchen.

My mother's back was to me, but Coach Cullen noticed me right away. He looked painfully uncomfortable as he put down the beer bottle he'd been holding, gave my mother a pointed nod and quietly said, "Esme."

She spun around in her chair, startled. "Edward! I thought you were going to Emmett's!"

"Yeah. I came home to get something to eat."

I studied them, thrown by what I saw. There were two plates on the table, still with scraps of uneaten food. There was an uncorked bottle of wine and a glass in front of my mother, which puzzled me—she rarely drank. She looked nice in black slacks and a blouse. Coach Cullen was in khakis and a collared shirt, fancier than anything he ever wore to teach gym and coach baseball.

They weren't touching, which was a relief, but the whole scene was oddly intimate. It was clear I'd interrupted something.

"What the hell is going?" I asked, feeling like the only adult in the room.

"We—uh… we were… having dinner." My mom was flushed and I wondered if that was due to the wine or embarrassment.

"_Why_?"

They looked at each other kind of frantically. Their camaraderie made my blood boil as everything clicked into place.

"Jesus Christ… you've got to be kidding me!" I spun around and headed for the stairs, furious, wondering how I could have missed it.

My mother followed me, the _click_ of her shoes rushing up the stairs behind me. I threw the door to my bedroom open, flung my keys onto my desk and turned to face her as she barged in behind me.

"I'm sorry," she started, her voice hushed. "Alice told me you were going to Emmett's. I didn't think you'd come home first."

"I was hungry! I didn't realize you had secret company or I would have gone through a drive-through!"

"He isn't secret company," she hissed.

"Bullshit! He's my baseball coach. He's my _teacher_ for Christ's sake!"

"No. No he isn't—not anymore."

"Please, that's a technicality and you know it. Are you dating him?"

"No! Maybe—I don't know."

The wheels in my head were turning, grasping at little pieces of information that once seemed insignificant. "Wait a minute… were you with him a couple of weeks ago? When you were in Nashville seeing a movie with a _friend_? Is it him you've been on the phone with every night when I get home?"

She took a deep breath, anxious, like a teenager caught out past curfew. "We talk on the phone sometimes, yes."

"Jesus," I muttered, rubbing my hands over my face. "How long has this been going on?"

"I've been friendly with Carlisle for years, Edward, you know that."

"_Carlisle_," I huffed, disgusted.

She ignored me and continued. "I was very careful. _We_ were very careful. We specifically waited until baseball was over and you were done with school before…"

She didn't finish and I was glad because I didn't want to hear it.

"Well, that's perfect," I spit. "I finished high school all of five hours ago and now you're dating one of my teachers?"

She sunk down onto my bed. "I'm sorry. I know how this looks, but I can assure you, I didn't intend for you to find out this way. We talked about this a few weeks ago, remember? You said you were fine with me dating. I certainly didn't think you'd be so upset." She smiled a little.

I balked at her feeble attempt to smooth things over. "And I didn't think you'd sneak around like you were doing something wrong."

"Edward, I'm a grown woman and I'll do whatever I please, but I definitely wasn't sneaking around. Had I known you'd be home tonight, I would have told you I was having company. Remember, just a few weeks ago you told me to go out and have some fun."

"Yeah, well, that was before my girlfriend dumped me," I snapped. "I was a little more generous with my goodwill back then." I snatched my keys off my desk and walked out of the room.

Coach Cullen was still sitting at the table where we'd left him. He had to have heard our entire conversation; the walls were very thin. He gave me a weak nod as I stormed through the kitchen and out the front door.

**Poor Edward… Thanks for reading and I'd love to know what you think :)**

**Also, I'm thinking about posting a bonus chapter for tomorrow, since this one was so short. Should I? Or should I stick to my Sunday/Wednesday schedule?**


	27. Twenty Seven

**Here's your bonus chapter for today, since yesterday's was so short. Enjoy :)**

**All Twilight names and reference belong to Stephenie Meyer. All original material and plot lines belong to this author.**

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Bella

I twirled a lock of hair around the barrel of my curling iron, determined to look presentable for my night out with Rose. She'd convinced me to go to dinner and to sleepover, to celebrate graduation and summertime and bigger and better things_,_ as she'd put it. I'd agreed, mostly because I was ready for an escape from home and my parents' always attentive gazes. I'd become a bit of a recluse, buried under the weight of nightmares and shame, not to mention my general lack of motivation, but honestly, I was looking forward to spending time with Rose. Her constant chatter and no-time-for-sulking attitude were exactly what I needed to pop the bubble of sadness and self-pity I'd been living in. I was going to celebrate the end of high school with a smile like a normal teenager, even if I had to fake it.

I swiped a mascara wand over my lashes, then searched my closet for something suitable to wear. I settled on my favorite jeans and the floral top Emily had forced me into buying when she'd finally managed to drag me shopping a few weeks before. Sadly, my jeans didn't fit the way they once had, hugging my curves, clinging to all the right places, but the top was surprisingly flattering. It billowed out over my hips, hiding the looseness at the waist of my pants.

After sitting through a quick cautionary lecture given by my very nervous parents, I grabbed my overnight bag and headed out the door to pick Rose up. The freedom was nice; I hadn't driven anywhere but to and from school since my last horrible visit to the Masens'. The road felt welcoming, full of possibility.

Rose was bubbly and grinning as she slid into the passenger seat of my car and directed me to the local Mexican restaurant. Once seated, we ordered peach daiquiris from the waiter—Rose's cousin—who was all too happy to spike hers with a congratulatory shot of rum. They were delivered to the table in long stemmed glasses, hers a slightly darker amber, garnished with whipped cream and maraschino cherries. We gorged ourselves on chips and salsa, chatting about our last day as seniors. At one point, sipping my too-sweet frozen drink, I realized that for once, my smile wasn't forced or fake. My laughter felt genuine. For the first time in weeks, I was having fun.

"Emmett said you're more than welcome to come by tonight," Rose told me, splintering the peaceful happiness that had settled over me. Talk of Emmett always brought thoughts of Edward.

"I'd rather not."

"He's not going to be there, you know."

"I don't care. I don't feel like partying. You should go if you want to, though. I can drop you off when we're done here and then head home."

"No way. I'm not going without you." She stirred her daiquiri, suddenly fascinated by the little swirls the straw left in the thick drink. "What happened with you and Edward, Bella? I mean, you were happy one day and the next it was over."

In the end, I hadn't told her about Riley. The unrestrained sympathy in Alice's eyes when I'd confided in her had been hard enough to take. I hated keeping secrets from Rose, but I didn't want her to treat me differently. "It didn't work out, that's all."

She looked up from her drink. "You expect me to believe that?"

I sighed. She could be self-centered and tactless, but she wasn't stupid. "It's hard to talk about," I said, breaking a tortilla chip into crumbs.

"So, what? One day you just fell out of love?"

If only it had been that easy. I took a long drink, swallowing gulps of icy daiquiri until my head hurt. "No," I said when the brain freeze subsided.

"Did he cheat on you?"

"No! No, it was nothing like that."

"Good. I didn't think so, but Emmett told me it was something bad."

"What else did Emmett tell you?" I asked suspiciously.

"That's it. He said that's all Edward would tell him."

"Well, it was something bad… but it wasn't Edward. He didn't do anything. It was my fau—" _My fault. _My counselor had been drilling into my head that it _wasn't_ my fault—not the earlier abuse, not the rape, not the end of things with Edward. I was only allowed to take responsibility for my own actions. I was not allowed to heap shovels full of blame onto myself, no matter how much it sometimes felt like I was the only one responsible. "He didn't do anything but try to help," I finished, needing to be clear about Edward's good intentions.

"Okay, I'm trying to understand. You love him, he didn't do anything bad, but you guys aren't together? Can you see why I'm struggling with this?"

Our food was delivered then. My taco salad didn't look nearly as appetizing as it had in the menu's picture, before Rosalie had started picking my brain. "It's pretty simple, Rose. We just aren't good for each other."

She gave an unflattering half-snort half-laugh. "Please. You and Edward are perfect for each other. I've never seen two people so wrapped up in one another. Everyone knows you're supposed to be together—even you, I suspect. What I want to know is—what could have happened that was so bad it's making you punish yourself _and_ him?"

Is that what I was doing?

Maybe I was punishing myself. It was hard to wrap my mind around the idea that I deserved to be as happy as Edward had once made me. But punishing _him_? He hadn't done anything wrong. He didn't deserve to be hurt the way I'd hurt him. I'd done the same thing to him that Riley had done to me: taken away his say and his power, ignored his feelings and trivialized what he wanted. In all the discussions I'd had with my counselor, even the little talks I'd had with Emily and Renee, I'd never had a moment of simple clarity like the one Rose's question brought on.

"Look, I can't talk about this right now."

"Fine. I'll drop it if you come to Emmett's with me."

"Absolutely not."

"Come on, Bella. You deserve a night of fun."

I couldn't help the glare that found its way to my face, but I was willing to do just about anything to end our conversation. "You're sure he won't be there?"

"Positive," she said, beaming.

**Four chapters left... ****Thanks for reading and I'd love to know what you think :)**


	28. Twenty Eight

**All names and Twilight references belong to the lovely Stephenie Meyer. All original material and plotlines belong to this author.**

**Seriously… so excited to share this chapter with you guys. I hope you like it :)**

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Edward

Emmett's street was lined with cars by the time I pulled up, faint bass thudding, filtering out into the warm night air from his basement. If it hadn't been the eve of graduation, I would've been worried that any one of his neighbors would file a noise complaint. As it was, there was an unspoken understanding in Ridgeville. Teenagers got away with certain irresponsible behaviors as long as they coincided with milestone events.

The basement was packed, but I found my friends easily, circling the keg. Alice looked worried when she saw me weaving through the crowd toward them. I made a conscious effort to relax the tension from my face.

"There you are," she said over the music.

I took her arm, dipping my head to speak into her ear. "Did you know what my mom was up to tonight?"

"Um, no, why?"

"Never mind. Where's Rose?"

"Not sure. Emmett said she'd be here later."

I plucked a red plastic cup from the stack on a nearby card table and filled it with beer. One look at Alice's face told me she disapproved, which was awfully hypocritical judging by her rosy cheeks and half-empty cup. To her credit, she didn't comment. Emmett clanked his own cup against mine, foam sloshing out all over our hands. He laughed and drained what was left of his beer. I followed suit because I'd finally reached my breaking point.

Time passed. I wandered around the basement, bullshitting with acquaintances, pretending everything was fine. I lost track of how many times I visited the keg for refills, but my cup never ran empty and I was definitely feeling the beer. The sounds of music and people fell away, blending into a pleasant drone, and the room took on a fogginess that left me feeling more comfortable in my skin than I'd been in weeks.

I ended up crammed on a couch, reminiscing with Emmett, Jasper and Alice. I found myself laughing along with them, something I'd fallen out of practice with. I was feeling better, pleasantly numb and a little giddy. I couldn't for the life of me remember why I'd avoiding drinking for so long.

"Here comes your girl, Emmett," Jasper called over the noise, pointing to the staircase.

Rosalie was halfway down the stairs, blonde curls perfect, scanning the crowd. She smiled as her eyes fell on Emmett. He grinned back, making me resentful of their mutual adoration. She waved at Jasper and Alice, then looked momentarily annoyed by my presence. I tried not to let her ruin my relative good time as she descended the last few steps and then turned to say something to whoever was following her.

Having seen enough of Rose's eternal bitchiness, I shifted on the couch to say something to Jasper, but he wasn't paying any attention. His eyes—wide and troubled—were focused on the staircase across the room. And then I knew… I knew with a dreadful certainty what who I'd see when I was able to focus properly on the hazy girl who stood at the bottom of the staircase with Rosalie.

Bella. She was thin and tired-looking, but still gorgeous and vibrant and smiling, dressed in dark jeans and top with little flowers on it. Her hair tumbled down her back in soft, shiny curls, like she'd taken the time to fix it. I felt an irrational rush of jealousy knowing she might've been trying to look nice for someone else. I stared, almost hypnotized, as she leaned toward Rose to listen to whatever she was saying.

The pain was back, more staggering than ever. I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees, because the sheer force of it made me dizzy. The noise in the basement faded completely, replaced by the whirring of blood in my ears. I could have sworn I was having an out of body experience—I was watching it all happen to some poor bastard who had the world's shittiest luck.

But then I felt Alice's hand on my forearm and heard her say, "I'm sorry, Edward. She wasn't supposed to be here," and I knew it was real.

I looked toward Bella again, hoping she'd vanished because that would have been easier. But she was still there, staring at me with a look of absolute horror.

I had to get out.

I thrust my cup into Alice's hands and sprang off the couch, shoving my way through the crowd toward the stairs. I stumbled once—partly because I was blinded by shock, but mostly because I was drunk—and ran into a group of people who were clearly put out by my lack of grace. I recovered and plowed on, rushing past Bella without a look or a word.

I was at a near sprint when I made it out the front door. I slowed and dug in my pocket for my keys, trudging through the dewy grass.

"Edward!"

I ignored the frantic voice behind me. It was too risky to let myself believe she'd come after me.

"Edward! Please, wait!"

I halted in front of my car. Her footsteps approached behind me.

"You stay," she said. "I'll go."

I closed my eyes against the wooziness and took a deep breath. "You weren't supposed to be here."

"Rose said you weren't coming. She must have been confused, or maybe she lied, I don't know… I wouldn't have come had I known you were going to be here."

"Thanks a lot," I said, stung by her words.

"That's not what I meant." She took a step toward me, close enough that I could feel her warmth on my back—torture.

"It doesn't matter. You're here now and I was just leaving."

"No! Emmett's your friend. I only came because Rose dragged me. You stay, I'll go."

The part of me that still desperately loved her didn't want her driving all the way home by herself. "No, Bella." My voice was thick even to my own ears. I hoped she didn't notice. "Go back inside. I'm ready to go anyway."

My body betrayed me, swaying to the side. I took a step forward in an effort to balance and overcorrected in the process. Her hands went immediately to my arms, steadying me and tearing me apart simultaneously.

"Edward, um… do you need a ride?"

_Not from you_, the angry part of me wanted to say. "No."

"But… haven't you been drinking?"

"No." I'm not sure why I didn't admit the truth. I'm sure it was obvious.

"Look at me."

Feeling like an idiot, I turned, keeping my eyes cast down at the sidewalk.

She put her hands on my cheeks, forcing me to meet her gaze. "You're drunk," she observed with interest, and then more quietly she asked, "Why would you lie to me?"

I moved her hands from my face, leaving them to hang her sides. "Because I don't want you to drive me home."

"Okay, but you can't drive yourself." I could tell from her tone that I'd hurt her, it was hard to care.

"I'll wait then." I sat on the curb between my Volvo and an old Mustang that was parked in front of it. I didn't trust my balance anymore.

"For what?" she asked gently.

"I don't know," I said, throwing my hands up in frustration. "Someone else who can give me a ride, I guess. Or maybe a taxi… anything that will keep me from having to sit in a car with you."

I heard her sigh and for a second I thought she was going to walk away. Instead, she sat down next to me.

"I get that you're upset, but you don't have to be hateful."

"Well, if that's not the pot calling the kettle black, I don't know what is."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"_What's that supposed to mean?_" I mocked, knowing full well that I was being immature. "The only person on this curb who's been hateful lately is _you_."

"I've never been hateful."

"Yeah, okay," I said with blatant sarcasm. "You broke up with me. You haven't spoken to me in, like, two weeks. Hell, you don't even acknowledge me anymore. It's like you've forgotten all about me. All the while I've been worrying about you, wondering what I could have done differently, trying to figure out why it was so easy for you to walk away and never look back."

"You think this has been easy for me?"

I wasn't sure if she was talking about the break-up or everything that happened before it, so I shrugged. "It seems like it. You looked happy when you were with Rosalie a few minutes ago."

"And you looked happy with _your_ friends."

"Yeah," I said with a dry laugh, "I've had a lot to drink."

She pulled her knees up and rested her head against her crossed arms. She gazed at me for an immeasurable moment, her thoughts a maze of mysteries behind big brown eyes. "I'm not _really_ happy," she said, her voice soft. "I fake it because it makes things easier for everyone else."

"Then you're better than me. I don't ever bother to fake it."

She had no reply. We sat on the curb for a long while. Neither of us spoke, but the quiet felt easy and I was hesitant to interrupt it. When the occasional car passed slowly down the street I'd take in every detail of her face in the golden glow of headlights—the curve of her cheek, the faint freckles across the bridge of her nose, the sparkle in her eyes—I committed it all to memory. The tension in my body eased due to her mere presence and I tried not to think about the gaping hole that'd be left when she decided to go back inside.

"I heard you ran into my mom at the grocery store a couple weeks ago," Bella eventually said, smooth and composed.

"Yeah, that was a treat."

"My sister was glad to meet you."

"I'm sure."

She grinned in her feisty way. "She said you were hot."

"Okay, don't do that. You're not allowed to joke around like everything's fine."

Her smile vanished. My hand slipped out from under my chin where I'd been holding my head up. I yawned.

"Let me take you home, Edward. You're so tired."

"So are you." I reached out and ran my thumb over the half-moon shadow beneath her eye, a reflex I would have put an immediate stop to had I had all my faculties about me. She stiffened at my touch and I jerked my hand away like her skin burned me. "Did you drive here?" I asked to distract her from my mistake.

"Yes. I brought Rose."

"You don't mind leaving?"

"No, I didn't even want to come in the first place."

She stood and held her hands out. I took them and stood too, letting her believe she'd pulled me up from the curb. We made it several feet down the sidewalk before I began to veer off course into someone's lawn. She giggled and linked her arm through mine, leading me halfway down the block to her car.

"Watch your head," she said as she opened the passenger door.

I wasn't so drunk that the role reversal didn't bother me. I climbed in, trying to force down the mortification that rose as I realized what a mess I was.

"So," she began after she'd called Rosalie to make sure she could find a ride home, "What's going on with you these days?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, come on. Graduation's tomorrow."

"I haven't really thought about it."

"Are you going to be okay for the ceremony?"

"Uh, I better be. It's not until five."

"I bet your mom is so excited."

I cringed at the mention of her. Bella's sudden appearance had been an effective distraction from my mother's clandestine love life. "Who knows? She's had other things on her mind lately."

"She's sad about you leaving for school?"

"No. She's dating my baseball coach."

Her focus left the road as her head whipped in my direction. "What? Coach Cullen?"

"Yeah. I walked in on the two of them having dinner tonight."

"Oh, my gosh… are you upset?"

"That doesn't even begin to cover it."

"But I thought you were okay with the idea of her seeing someone. You wanted her to be happy—" She stopped abruptly, but I knew what she'd about to say: _happy like you._

"I do want her to be happy, but you didn't see it. It was this secret, intimate meal… it was so weird. And Coach Cullen just sat there all calm like he wasn't doing anything wrong."

"But they weren't really doing anything wrong," Bella said with her simple, infuriating logic. "I mean, apart from keeping it a secret, it was just dinner, right?"

"The man was my baseball coach for years. He was a father-figure, a mentor. It feels like a betrayal."

Her right hand abandoned the steering wheel and landed on my arm. Against my better judgment, I let her keep it there, warm and familiar; it was more comforting than any words. I let my head rest on the cool glass of the window and struggled to keep my eyes open as she drove the last few miles to my house.

It was a relief to see that Coach Cullen's Mercedes was gone when we pulled into the driveway. The bright light that shone through most of the house's windows, however, was a problem.

"Damn it," I muttered, unbuckling my seat belt.

"What?"

"My mom's still up. She'll be furious when she sees me like this."

"Oh… um, do you want me to come in? I can distract her if you want to go right upstairs."

I didn't want her to come in, not really, because I'd already dug myself deep enough by letting her talk to me and drive me and touch me. The misery of watching her walk out the front door again was too much to consider, but I couldn't face my mother. She'd take one look at me and know I'd been drinking. Her definite disappointment outweighed everything else.

"Shouldn't you be getting home?"

"No. I'm supposed to be sleeping at Rose's tonight."

I raised my eyebrows, surprised.

"I know," she said, reading my mind. "They decided since today was the last day of school, I deserved a night of freedom."

"Okay then, yeah, you can come in, but just for a few minutes." That was all I'd be able to handle.

I trailed her to the porch, and then fumbled around while trying to unlock the front door. Finally she took pity on me, snatching the keys from my hand and unlocking the door with ease.

"Bella!" my mother exclaimed as we walked into the kitchen.

"Hi, Esme."

I stepped around them as they hugged and climbed the stairs before my mom started asking questions, something I was only able to get away with because of the fight we'd had earlier. I brushed my teeth and changed out of my jeans, trying to eavesdrop on the voices down in the kitchen. The only thing I was able to make out was Bella's delighted squeal and, "Hi, Maggie!" when my mom let the dog inside. Eventually I gave up and fell into bed, too tired to fight sleep any longer.

###

I woke a short time later to the touch of a hand on my forehead.

"Edward?" For a few seconds I thought I was dreaming, but when Bella said my name again I squinted up through the darkness to see her sitting on the edge of my bed. "Here," she said, holding out a glass of water. "I brought you some aspirin."

I sat up and swallowed the pills, trying to ignore the spinning room. "Thanks," I said before sinking back down onto my pillow and closing my eyes.

"Sorry it took me so long. Your mom was very chatty."

"I can only imagine. Did she go to bed?"

"Not before she gave me a rundown of the argument you two had. She feels awful."

"She should."

"But you're going to forgive her right?"

"Eventually, I guess… why do you care?"

She was quiet for so long I opened my eyes to make sure she hadn't somehow disappeared. She was still there, dark curls framing her face, gazing down at me with so much sorrow it was startling.

"What?" I asked, wanting nothing more than to erase the sadness from her eyes.

"I'll always care," she said, her shaky voice alerting me to imminent tears. "I don't want you to ever think I've stopped caring."

I brushed her hair back, a big mistake because then I didn't want to stop touching her. I crossed my arms behind my head and spoke gently. "Bella, you can't say things like that to me."

"Why? It's the truth."

"It messes with my head. It gives me hope that everything might work out after all."

"You'd rather believe I don't care?"

"You've ignored me for weeks… isn't that what you want me to believe?"

"No. I've kept my distance because I don't trust myself. It's easier to avoid you because every time I see you I want to take it all back and ask you to forgive me."

I knew I'd regret it, but I asked anyway, "Then why don't you?"

"Because then I remember _why _I did what I did, how unhappy I was making you," she whispered. The first of her tears fell. More than anything, I hated to see her cry and my hand twitched with the need to brush them away. She beat me to it though, wiping roughly at her cheeks. "I'm being so selfish," she said, her anger surprising me. "Here I am crying in your room in the middle of the night because I can't manage to stay away from you. I'm making you miserable all over again and I don't know how to fix it."

Even exhausted and residually drunk, I saw a clear solution. It was just a matter of choosing my words carefully so she'd see it too. "I was never miserable when we were together," I whispered, reaching for her hand. "I've only been miserable since we've been apart."

She was unnaturally still for a minute. Then her hand left mine. "I should go."

I grabbed her wrist as she shifted to stand, every cell in my body suddenly alert and screaming at me not to let her walk out the door. I was no longer that guy who could sit in silence and watch her go, who could abide by her request not to call, who would let the hurt eat away at him without at least trying.

She turned to look at me with wide, questioning eyes.

"Please don't leave."

"Edward—"

"Stay with me. Please. Stay with me tonight and see how you feel in the morning."

Her eyes got teary again, but she nodded and I relaxed minutely.

She went to my dresser and pulled out a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt. "I'll be right back," she said before heading into the dark hallway.

For one terrible second I wondered if she was going to leave anyway, but then I noticed her purse sitting on my desk in a sliver of moonlight. I relaxed and listened to her muffled bathroom noises, trying to figure out the most appropriate sleeping position to assume when my ex-girlfriend joined me in bed.

She came back before I had a chance to make a decision. I panicked while she draped her clothes over the back of my chair. She turned to face me, looking just as unsure as I felt and I laughed despite myself, breaking the tension. She smiled too, then crawled over me and slipped under the sheet, settling herself dangerously close.

When her bare arm brushed against mine, I couldn't help myself. I braced for rejection and summoned whatever courage the remaining alcohol in my system would grant me. I gathered her in my arms, knowing I wouldn't be able to fall asleep without her snuggled against me. And she did, willingly, like she couldn't get close enough. We fell asleep as if there'd never been even a moment of bad between us.

**I hope this made all of the sad chapters worth it. I'd love to hear what you think, and I'd love to hit 100 reviews! I'd greatly appreciate it if you took the time to let me know your thoughts. :)**


	29. Twenty Nine

**All names and Twilight references belong to the lovely Stephenie Meyer. All original material and plotlines belong to this author.**

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Bella

He untangled himself from the web of my arms very early, after the first light of morning but before birds began to sing. I nestled into his warm spot and listened to him stumble down the hallway. The toilet flushed and then the sink ran for a long time.

In my morning clarity, I was having second thoughts about staying the night. I'd been torn and he'd all but begged, but nothing had seemed more important at that moment than a night with Edward. In the light of day, our little sleepover seemed reckless and sort of stupid. It would be nearly impossible to go backward, to step away knowing how right he made me feel.

The running water in the bathroom stopped and everything went quiet. I tried to talk myself into sneaking downstairs to my car, but in the end, I couldn't. I had nowhere to go. Rose was probably still at Emmett's and my parents would be more than a little suspicious about me wandering through the door at the crack of dawn. Plus, if I was being completely honest, I didn't want to go. I'd missed him too much. The awful, frustrating, nagging feeling that this was where I belonged wouldn't go away.

Edward opened the bedroom door. I lifted my head to look at him, eyes squinted against the dull, silvery light. He smiled and moved cautiously toward his bed. I hoped he was still tired enough to go back to sleep. It was too early to start the day, to face the prospect of saying goodbye. "Are you okay?" he asked, sitting down on the edge of the mattress.

I smelled mint on his breath. He'd brushed his teeth. Sneaky. "Yes. Are you getting up?"

He lay down, keeping his distance. "No. I was just thirsty."

I scooted toward him, flipping the quilt so it covered us both, and rested my head on his stomach. I was tired, but wasting this time with him, the only time we might have for a long while, seemed too outrageous to consider. I felt his fingers weave into my hair, the best feeling in the world, and wondered if maybe I was still asleep, if it was all a dream. "Did you sleep okay?" I asked, winding an arm around his middle.

"Yeah… you?"

"I think I slept more last night than I have in the last week." I was only able admit it because I had a feeling he was in the same boat.

"Sorry I woke you."

"It's okay." He combed through my hair, over and over. His face flashed in my head, random images, expressions that spoke volumes. Dismay at seeing me in Emmett's basement, frustration at my two weeks of silence, pain at the thought that I didn't care anymore, then confusion at learning I did. I was doing it again, messing with him, hurting him, all because of my own selfish need to be with him.

"Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think this was a bad idea?"

He was quiet for a beat too long before saying, "Probably." My heart sank.

"Because now you remember how much you hate me?"

"Because it's going to suck when you go back to pretending I don't exist. And I don't hate you—though sometimes I wish I did."

"Why?"

"Because it would be a hell of a lot easier to move on."

My arm tightened around his middle. "Is that what you want? To move on?"

"That would be less complicated, I guess, but it won't happen."

"How can you be sure?" I was baiting him. Worse, I knew it. Fishing for what I wanted to hear, what I needed to hear to clear my conscious. If he wasn't angry, if he still wanted me, maybe I hadn't damaged him as badly as I'd thought.

"I don't know… I just am. I know what I want."

"I can't believe you _don't_ hate me. You should."

"I hate that you doubt me."

"I don't."

"I hate that you made a decision about us without me," he went on as if I hadn't spoken. "I hate that you don't want me in your life anymore, but I'll never hate _you_."

I didn't respond. There weren't easy words to convey what I was thinking, what was constantly on my mind. I wanted him in my life, more than anything. The fact that he thought otherwise was crushing. He was the best part of my world, a vibrant, thriving garden in a mess of tangled weeds.

He played with my hair, long, gentle strokes, as another stretch of quiet passed. There was so much I needed to tell him, so much to confess, a bottomless pit of apologies.

When I spoke again, my voice was timid. "My parents are making me talk to someone."

The muscles of his stomach tightened, as if he was fully alert again. "Yeah? Like a therapist?"

"Pretty much, but she refers to herself as a counselor."

"What's she like?"

God, she was a million things, kooky and eccentric, surprisingly easy to talk to. "She's okay," I told him. "She's old. She wears her hair in this long braid down her back; she wears tons of silver jewelry that clanks around all the time. She burns incense in her office."

"Okay, but what's she _like_?"

It was so like him to call me on my omission, to ask the simple, profound questions that needed asking. "She's nice. She's quiet. She doesn't really offer advice like I figured she would. Mostly she just listens."

"Is that helpful?"

"I've only seen her a few times. I leave feeling crazier than when I went in, but maybe that's part of the process."

"You're not crazy, Bella."

"My parents think I'm depressed."

He spent a long time contemplating his next question before putting it out there. "Are you?"

"I don't know," I said slowly. "You know, you're the first person to ask me. Everyone assumes I am—my parents, my sister. They walk on eggshells around me like I'm this fragile person who's going to break into a million pieces at any given second. It's awful."

"Did I do that?"

"Sometimes… but it was different with you. You were protective, but you were real too."

"So, you're giving the therapy thing a shot?"

"I am. I mean, it's not as if things can get any worse." I was trying, I really was, but therapy was hard. Talking—about Riley, about Edward, admitting my mistakes—it was so much more difficult than I'd imagined. But I could see that it was helping. I could feel myself progressing a little bit here and there. I was starting to see a tiny pinpoint of light at the end of the long, dark tunnel that my life had become.

"What do you talk about?" Edward asked.

"Lots of stuff… she knows about Riley, obviously. Charlie gave her the whole story when he set up my appointments. I've talked to her about it a little bit. Not the details, so much, but more about what I've been going through since." I paused and moved on the bed, resting my head on the pillow next to his so I could see his face. "I told her that I wish Riley hadn't died," I said quietly.

His voice was calm, dispassionate, when he asked, "Why?"

"Mostly I'm angry he took the easy way out. I'd gotten to the point where I wanted him to pay for what he did to me. To at least be held accountable, and now that'll never happen. But... this is hard to admit... I feel guilty too."

He reached for my hand and weaved our fingers together, the gesture a frustrating reminder that I had no business being there, warm in _his_ clothes, comfortable in _his_ bed. "I didn't know you felt guilty, Bella… why?"

I sighed, unsure of how he'd take it, but at the same time certain I had to tell him. "Someone is dead. Someone I knew, someone I was once close to. He's _dead_, and there's no turning that around. I played a part in it, no matter how unwillingly. I keep wondering if there was something I could have done months ago that might have changed things. Maybe I missed some sign. Maybe I could have done something to change _this_ future."

"But you told me weeks ago, before Riley ever found you, that he was unbalanced, that you were some kind of warped prize to him. He would've come after you no matter what. He would have found a way. There's nothing you could've done."

"Do you really believe that?" I whispered, searching his green eyes, soaking up the strength that always seemed to swim in them.

"Yeah, absolutely."

"Then why do you blame yourself?"

He sighed, pulling his gaze from mine. "That's different."

"No, it's not."

"I should've been there," he said, his eyes seeking mine again. "I fucked up. I was worried when you were late to Fork's, but I waited. If I would have listened to my gut, I would have been with you. I could have protected you—I _should_ have protected you."

"But he would have found a way, you said so yourself."

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does. You can't keep blaming yourself. It's not good for either of us." I knew as the words left my mouth I had no right to say them. We weren't together. He had no commitment to me. What he did and felt shouldn't have mattered to me, but it did. His guilt was my guilt and it was gnawing away, threatening to ruin both of us.

He looked wrecked, tired and wary, almost beyond repair. I wanted to erase it all, wipe away his sorrow and remorse until he could smile in that effortless way I loved so much. I rested my palm on his cheek. "You're different, Edward," I said softly. "You seem so sad."

His face fell into an expression of utter disbelief before he quickly balanced it, relaxing his arched brow and tight jaw. "You're different, too," he said. "You seem like you've got it all together, like there's nothing that can shake your conviction."

I resisted the urge to laugh in his face. The fact that he always saw the best in me was bewildering. "Nothing could be further from the truth. I question every decision I've made in the last few months. There are a million things I wish I could change."

He closed his eyes for a long moment. "I'm going to ask you a question," he said when he'd opened them. "I need you to be completely honest with me."

I nodded, nervous, waiting for him to get on with it.

"If you had it to do over again, would you end things the way you did?

I searched for his other hand, seeking it out from beneath the sheet, and held it against my chest. I need his support, his touch, to get it out. "No. Maybe I'm selfish, but it's too hard without you. I miss you, Edward."

"I miss you, too."

But I wasn't finished yet. "I can't say the time apart has been bad for me. I've learned, figured some things out. I think I've grown." It was the truth. I felt wiser, anchored in a way I never was before.

"I wish I could say the same. All I've done is whine and sulk."

I smiled at his endearing honesty. "Don't get me wrong, I've done plenty of that too. I'm not who I was, but… I think I'm going to be okay."

"When you are okay—_whenever_ you're ready—I'll be here. I know you said not to wait, but I'm waiting. I love you, Bella. You're the only person I'll ever want to be with."

I considered arguing, discouraging him, but in the end, I couldn't. Instead, I used our linked hands to pull myself closer. I wound my arms around his neck, hugging him tight. His hand pressed into the small of my back, holding me close until I melted into him. He rubbed my back, something he'd done countless times when we were together. The rightness of his arms around me, the perfect fit of our bodies, his comforting, familiar scent—it was all too good. I fell asleep thinking about how much I want him back.

###

I woke up inspired.

I left Edward sleeping in his bed and nearly ran to my car, impatient to get home. My parents were having coffee at the breakfast bar. The seemed pleasantly surprised when I bounced through the door, a genuine smile plastered to my face for the first time in weeks.

"How was it?" my mom asked, referring to my time with Rosalie, the only part of my night she and my father knew anything about.

"Good, actually," I said, taking a powdered donut from the plate in front of them. "We had fun. I've missed Rose lately." It was the partial truth. Dinner had been fun—before she'd brought up Edward and dragged me kicking and screaming to Third Base Emmett's party.

"What's your plan for the rest of the day?" my dad asked. It was the same question I'd fielded every day since they'd come home from Memphis. A play-by-play of my day's activities.

"I'm going to paint."

Renee's eyebrows lifted and Charlie grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "We'll be here if you need us," my mom said, smiling into her coffee mug. "And make sure you're ready to head to the school by four o'clock."

I nodded and set what was left of my donut on a napkin to take upstairs. I'd neglected my passion for a long while, my motivation slaughtered, my muse on an extended vacation, but I was ready. My easel was calling, my brushes begging to be used, my paints crying out for canvas. Finally, something inside me had stirred awake and refreshed the brilliant colors in my head.

On a mission, I plucked the image I'd printed two weeks before from my vanity mirror and analyzed it, my brain quickly picturing and cataloging the composition and the shading, the colors and the focal point. With the finished painting just right in my head, I dug through my closet, searching for the right canvas—not too big, not to small. I organized my acrylics, choosing shades of purple and deep blue, an energetic yellow and a rich emerald.

I sat, staring at the snow-white canvas, running my fingers over its faintly textured surface, appreciating it for what it was—clean, untouched, a fresh start. Then I filled it with fearless brushstrokes and bright, lively colors, thinking all the while of Edward. I needed to find the courage to give him the painting he'd unknowingly helped create.

**Thanks for reading. Only two more chapters to go. :)**


	30. Thirty

**Second-to-last chapter!**

**All names and Twilight references belong to the lovely Stephenie Meyer. All original material and plotlines belong to this author.**

CHAPTER THIRTY

Edward

When I woke up several hours later, Bella was gone. Surprisingly, her absence didn't threaten to drill a hole through my heart. Instead, considering everything we'd talked about, I felt calm, almost peaceful. I glanced toward my clock and noticed a glass of water and two more aspirin sitting on my nightstand. I smiled at her gesture and swallowed the pills as my stomach rumbled. I hadn't gotten around to eating dinner last night.

I found my phone in the pocket of the jeans I wore to Emmett's and called Alice on my way down to the kitchen.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice anxious.

"Yeah, what are you doing right now?"

"Killing time until graduation. Rose said Bella drove you home last night. Did you talk to her?"

"Yeah." I pulled a loaf of bread and some cheddar from the refrigerator, craving grilled cheese. "My car is still at Emmett's. Will you come get me and drive me over there?"

"Edward—"

"You just said you weren't doing anything. Please?"

She sighed into the phone while I cut slices of cheese. "Oh, all right. I'll be there in half an hour. You'd better be ready."

"Thanks, I owe you."

I rolled my eyes at her exasperation when she hung up without a goodbye.

I hurried through my sandwich, downing a huge glass of water in the process, and showered quickly so I'd be ready on time. I was hardly in the mood for Alice's scolding.

As I finished tying my shoes I heard her honking her car horn from the street. I grabbed my keys and headed outside.

"You're looking decent today," she said I as I stooped to get into her car.

"That's generous."

"Seriously, I was kind of worried about you last night."

"I'm fine." _Bella took care of me_, I nearly said.

"So, you talked to her?" she asked as if she'd heard my thoughts.

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And I think everything's going to be okay."

"That's good. That means there're more double dates in our future, right?"

"Don't push it, Alice."

She reached over to pat my shoulder. I looked at her and she smiled like she was proud, like she was genuinely happy for me.

"Where are you headed?" she asked as she turned onto Emmett's street.

"Petals. I need to talk to my mom before graduation."

"Did she find out about your overindulgence last night?"

"I don't know. I think Bella covered for me, but there's some other stuff I need to talk to her about."

"Good luck," she said, stopping behind the Volvo.

Emmett's house was only a couple of miles from Petals, leaving me with very little time to map out what I wanted to say to my mom. Since my outlook on life was slightly more optimistic, I was feeling pretty shitty about the way I treated her last night. She _did_ deserve to be happy.

Alice's mom was working the front counter when I walked into the shop. She looked up from a flower catalogue, the little bell on the door alerting her to my arrival. "Hey, Edward," she said hesitantly.

I wondered what Mrs. Brandon knew about the last few weeks, if Alice and my mother had confided in her. She definitely seemed aware that something wasn't right—she looked like she was afraid I might blow up at any second. I smiled at her. "Hey, is my mom around?"

"She sure is. She's in the back working on arrangements for tonight."

I'd forgotten that Petals was doing the flowers for graduation. My mother must've been busy. On top of the ceremony arrangements, she was closing the shop early so she and Alice's mom could make it to graduation on time.

"Thanks," I said, heading for the workroom.

She grabbed my wrist as I passed. "Is everything okay, sugar? Your mom told me you were pretty upset with her last night."

"Yeah," I said, truly embarrassed by the fit I threw. "That's why I'm here."

"Well, try to go easy on her. I'm sure seeing her with Carlisle was shocking, but remember, this is hard on her too."

I was pretty sure I'd never be able to think of Coach Cullen as _Carlisle_, but I nodded anyway because I knew Mrs. Brandon was right.

"All right. Go on back."

My mother was standing at the worktable, nearly swallowed by several huge arrangements. The room smelled fresh and organic, like spring. She glanced up as I came through the swinging door. And then her face fell.

"Hey," I said, tossing my keys onto the table among fallen leaves, floral wire, and bits of foam.

"Edward," she said, her tone clipped.

I dove right in. "Look, Mom, I don't really know what to say, other than I'm sorry. I was out of line last night. The last couple of weeks haven't been great, and then… well, I felt deceived."

She went back to the flowers, tucking stems haphazardly into an arrangement. I watched her, wondering whether she was going to reply. She stayed silent, backing up a few step, tilting her head to assess her work.

"You're not going to say anything?" I finally asked.

She sighed and crossed her arms. "I did a poor job of handling things. I never meant for it to be a secret."

"I know. Obviously you don't have to answer to me—it's your business. It was just kind of shocking to see the two of you together. When I said you should date, I never thought the guy would end up being someone I know."

"I'm sorry, honey," she said, her face softening considerably. "I should have been more sensitive. I know you're not having an easy time."

"Yeah, well, I'm doing better today."

Her eyebrows arched up. "Did you and Bella work things out?" The hopefulness in her voice was barely contained.

"I'm not sure," I said. "We talked a lot… She had her reasons. Even though I don't really agree with them—I don't know… I think I kind of get it now."

She went back to the flowers; wrapping small bunches of carnations with floral tape. "I can't even imagine how difficult things must be for her."

"I know," I said, sadness dripping from my voice like a leaky faucet.

She glanced up from the flowers. "She loves you, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, I'm just not sure that's enough right now."

"Edward, I know how first love is. It changes you, for the best, if you're lucky. It's intense and consuming and thrilling, but it can also be scary. It can fill you with doubt and it can hurt, but it's always worth it in the end."

"I hope so," I said, considering her words. "Hey, I know you're busy, but do you have time to put something together for Bella?"

She looked at the clock that hung over the door. "I think so. Did you want something particular?"

"Dahlias."

"I can do that… just dahlias?"

_Change and instability… dignity and elegance. _"Yeah, just dahlias."

"Fill out a card and I'll make sure she gets them this afternoon."

The tiny card my mother provided wasn't nearly enough space to say what I was feeling, but I wrote a quick note: _Thanks for everything. Call me when you're ready. _I sealed it in an envelope and pushed it across the table. "Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome." She gazed at me, her eyes sympathetic. "It's going to work out, sweetie."

"We'll see." The small workroom was starting to make me claustrophobic. I needed some air. I dug my keys from the mess on the table. "I'm going to head home. I'll see you at school tonight."

"Edward," my mom said as I was about to open the door.

I turned to face her, curious.

"I know you were drunk when you came home last night."

_Shit_. "What?"

"You heard me. Bella tried to distract me, but I'm not stupid."

"Oh…" I looked down at my shoes, thinking of my father. His accident.

"I hope I don't have to explain why I don't want you drinking. You're lucky she was there to drive you home."

"I know."

"Please don't do it again," she said quietly.

Her obvious disappointment made me feel awful. "I won't. I'm sorry."

"All right, I'll see you tonight."

###

The graduation ceremony was held in the Ridgeville High School Gymnasium. I'd seen Bella come in—stunning, somehow, even in the obnoxious polyester robe we were all forced to wear—then hug her parents and take her seat a few rows behind me. Unsure of where we stood, I kept my distance, though I was dying to go to her.

The opening speeches were long and insincere, but maybe I was just bitter because I was hot and uncomfortable in my starchy robe and silly cardboard cap. My classmates and I filed alphabetically onto the stage set up atop the basketball key; it was decorated with the red and white flower arrangements my mother had been working on that morning. One by one, our principal called our names. Coach Cullen—_Carlisle_—was standing beside him, handing out diplomas.

I scanned the crowd as I waited my turn, spotting my mother. She was sitting with Alice's parents. Jasper's entire family was a row below them, the Swans a few aisle away. There were wild cheers as Alice received her diploma, then again as Jasper got his a few minutes later. When my name was called, the cheering picked up again. I stepped onto the stage and shook the principal's hand. Coach Cullen passed me my diploma and, lost in the moment, I reached out to shake his hand as well. It was as if a silent understanding passed between us. I felt myself smile. He grinned back, his eyes kind, before I stepped off the stage and headed back to my folding chair.

Watching Bella get her diploma was kind of surreal. I heard the applause, watched her climb the steps and perform the required handshakes, then take hold of her diploma and glide gracefully back down the aisle. The quick glance and the tiny smile she offered me as she headed back to her seat felt too private and too intimate for the hundreds of eyes that surrounded us.

I tried to wait patiently as everyone else was called to stage, but it was difficult. Emmett was seated in the row behind me and continued to nudge me so I'd turn around and listen to random comments about girls from our class as they were called on stage. It was funny, if slightly disturbing. By the time the principal had gotten to the P names, Emmett had switched seats with the person next to me so he could talk more conveniently.

"She's a terrible kisser," he whispered as a cute blonde walked across the stage.

I rolled my eyes and glanced around at my classmates, not really sure what I was looking for. Rosalie was sitting to our left, a few rows in front of us, looking almost as bored as I felt.

Emmett elbowed me. "She drives an Impala," he said, pointing to the redhead who was shaking the principal's hand. "Do you have any idea how roomy the backseat of an Impala is?"

"No. Why don't you go sit with Rose?"

"Because she told me not to bug her. She wants to enjoy the moment," he mocked using air quotes. "She said she'd become the world's worst girlfriend if I ruined today for her."

I squinted at him, unwilling to believe what I'd heard. "Wait, did you say—"

"Yes," he hissed. "She's my girlfriend and I don't want any shit about it."

I held up my hands, trying not to laugh out loud. "I wasn't going to say anything."

He slumped down in his seat and didn't say another word about his previous conquests while our last few classmates' names were read.

Finally, we were asked to stand and, as _Pomp and Circumstance_ played over the crackly gym sound-system, we flung our caps into the air. People around me cheered and hugged, some cried, all seemed elated. I felt numb to the experience, like a bystander instead of a participant.

As the excitement died down, I looked toward where my mother had been, but she was gone. Then I heard her call my name and turned to see her hurrying toward me, dabbing at her eyes with a well-used tissue. She hugged me, then insisted on snapping a few pictures before I shed my itchy robe.

We met up with Jasper, Emmett, Alice and their families in the middle of the gym, a big, noisy group. Our parents posed us for an endless string of pictures, first several of the four of us together, then each of us with our respective families. All the while I searched discreetly for Bella, hoping she'd find me before I lost my willpower and hunted her down.

By the time the commotion had died down, I'd given up. _She went home, _I told myself. _You told her you'd wait until she was ready. She isn't. _Feeling low, I ditched my robe and hugged my mother once more. "I'm going home to change into jeans before dinner," I told her.

"All right. I'm going to the Brandons' to help with the food. Try not to be too late. Everyone will be waiting for you."

It was hard to believe that was true, especially considering the mood I'd been in lately, but I nodded anyway. I was kind of dreading the barbeque Alice's parents were hosting for us, but I knew it was important to my mom and probably my friends.

I lagged behind as everyone left the gym. The rest of the crowd was clearing out. The noise had faded from the roar of hundreds to the dull hum of a few stragglers. I slung the horrible robe over my arm as I walked toward the exit, glad I'd never have to put it on again. The breezy evening was a welcome change to the stuffy heat of the gym. It was quieter outside. I took a deep breath of cool air. Already I felt better.

**One last chapter to post... bitter sweet! I'd love to know what you thought of this one.**


	31. Thirty One

**This is it... the last chapter. I hope it lives up to what you're expecting... :)**

**All names and Twilight references belong to the lovely Stephenie Meyer. All original material and plotlines belong to this author.**

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE  
Bella

Outside the gym, I lingered. My parents—against their better judgment, I think—had left in their SUV so I could wait alone in the courtyard for Edward. I was desperate to see him, to talk to him, to speak the words I was so ready to speak. He came strolling out of the double doors, handsome in khaki pants and polo shirt, his copper hair in its usual disarray. His red robe was flung over his arm. I hurried to catch him. When I was close enough, I slipped my hand into his. He whirled around, startled.

I smiled sheepishly. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay," he said, flustered. I couldn't help but like that I could still throw him off his ever-so-confident pedestal.

I gazed up at him, not sure how to begin. He stared back, pinning me in place, turning my head inside out. "Thank you for the flowers," I managed. "That was sweet… they're beautiful."

"You're welcome. Thank you for last night, for… everything."

My smile grew, but I was still cautious. I was taking a big risk that could very easily blow up in my face. "I guess I should say congratulations. You're officially a graduate."

"Yeah, you too." His eyes traveled over me—my deep blue dress, my hair, my mouth, our linked hands. I was very glad I'd changed out of my repulsive robe. He reached out and touched my hair ever so gently. "You look pretty," he said.

"Thank you." I was quiet for a few moments, thoughtful, considering all the possible outcomes of what I wanted so desperately to do. "I have something for you. Will you come to the parking lot with me?"

"Yeah, okay."

He didn't drop my hand as we walked. _Could it be so easy?_ _Might we be able to slip so effortlessly back into us? _

"I've been working on something for you," I said when we neared my car.

He didn't seem to have any idea what I was talking about, but he was definitely curious. He followed me to my trunk and watched as I hit a button on my keychain remote, popping it open. I pulled the canvas out and hugged it to my chest.

"You don't have to display it," I said, feeling like I needed some sort of disclaimer to prepare him for what he was about to see. Slowly, I turned the canvas around, revealing inch by inch the painting I'd spent all morning and most of the afternoon working on. Bright blue flowers with tiny starbursts of yellow in their centers, the colors splashed onto a background of vibrant green.

He smiled and reached for the canvas. "Are these—?"

"Forget-me-nots," I said. "Remember, you asked me to paint you something?"

"Yeah… I remember." He was distracted, studying the painting, his eyes wide. I racked my brain for what he could possibly be thinking. Apprehension set in as the seconds drew out. Surely he wasn't disappointed.

I glanced away, my eyes zipping around the parking lot, taking in the small groups of people getting into cars. No one was paying any attention to our little exchange. I couldn't resist my need to fill the silence. "I haven't painted much since… well, you know. I'm a little rusty."

Finally he gave me his full attention, looking adorable and really pleased. Flattered, even. "I love it," he said. "It'll definitely be on display."

I relaxed the tiniest bit. "I'm glad."

An awkward silence fell between us as I worked up the courage to do what I'd come to do, what I so badly needed to do. My life hadn't been right since I left Edward. There was no joy, no hope, no real will to go on. I missed everything about him: his laugh, his stories, and his support. His kisses. The gentle way he touched me. I had to set things right. I wanted him back.

His gaze found mine again, pulling me in deep. Without another thought, I pushed up onto my toes and hugged him.

For a second, he was stunned into stillness. He quickly recovered though, and bent to wrap his arms around my waist as I tightened my hold. He breathed deeply and so did I because, finally, I could. His strong arms around me, his warm body against mine, his indiscernible whispers tickling my ear; this was where I belonged—where I always wanted to be.

"I know this probably isn't the time or place," I said softly, "but… can we try again?"

He pulled back. His eyes were big and hopeful, just like mine probably, although mine were also brimming with tears. "You're sure?" he asked. "I understand now. I get that you need time. I'll wait as long as you need."

"I'm sure, but you should know—" this was the most important part, the part he had to understand if it would work "—I'm still struggling. I'm not perfect."

He lifted his shoulders, all his confidence right back where it belonged. "Who cares? Neither am I."

_Yes, you are,_ was my immediate thought, but I squashed it. More important words sat at the tip of my tongue. "I love you, Edward. Always. No matter what."

He smiled, but I was certain I saw longing etched across his face. I prayed he'd give in to it.

He did, leaning in, a small smile playing at his lips before they met mine. He kissed me softly, slowly, and I was glad because I didn't want it to end.

When it did, he took my hands in his. "I have to get to Alice's for the barbeque. What are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing much." _Ask me to come with you. I'll follow you anywhere._

He grinned and nodded toward his Volvo. "Well, let's go then."

**So… that's it. I'm so sad I'm done posting this story. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it. If you did, tell someone about it! I'm always hoping more readers will find it. I'm toying with the idea of posting an epilogue at some point, so if that's something you'd be interested in reading, let me know. Also, I sometimes post outtakes and alternative POVs of this story on another thread that you can find on my profile. If you want be notified of those updates, please do sign up.**

**Thanks to all of you who've followed this story, and especially those who've taken the time to review and recommend it elsewhere. You're awesome! **


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